love bites & recompense (i'll be with you until the end)
by Tarafina
Summary: While stuck in the prison world, Bonnie and Damon strike up a physical relationship. It's not cheating if you're dead, right? Bonnie tells herself she can let him go in the end, but she's never been much of a liar. [3-Parts & epilogue]
1. death

**rating** : nc-17/explicit  
 **warning(s)** : coarse language; explicit sexual situations  
 **word count** : 10,382  
 **note** : there's a lot of smut in here. this was supposed to be a short smutty piece and then i kept writing and it turned into a much bigger story with more substsance. but, there's still a ton of smut, so be forewarned, i guess...

* * *

 **i**

It's not really cheating, he tells her. They're dead. Trapped in a world they might never leave. It can't be cheating if there's no chance of them getting out. And, really, considering it was always them who came through with the last-minute plans, who was going to bring them back?

They were fighting a minute ago. Weren't they? Bickering and snapping at each other over nothing and everything. Her chest heaves from anger and frustration. Her skin feels too tight, her clothes too loose. Her insides are tied up in knots, leaving her edgy and needy. Not a feeling she likes having, not here, not with only him to keep her company. His eyes are too bright, his hair tousled from running his fingers through it, his shirt barely buttoned, and his jeans hang off his hips in a tragically attractive way. She's not supposed to feel this way about him. But, he's standing there, an ode to sin, and she feels _want_ pool in her stomach.

Bonnie stares at his mouth just a beat too long, and she wants to blame him for it. Easier him than her. They've been walking on egg shells for too long, pretending they're fine and normal and nothing is different. But, something is. It pushes and pulls, drawing them together. Like a string is tied to her navel, dragging her forward by her hips, until she falls into his rotation. A part of her says stop, turn back before it's too late, but another part tells her not to. That this is exactly where she needs to be. _He_ is what she needs.

The slow drag of his tongue over his lips makes her toes curl.

"Fuck it," he mutters. And then the table is digging into her back and his front is pressed to her, all of him is stretched out against her. His mouth hovers just short of hers, enough that she can feel his breath panting against her lips. And she shouldn't- she shouldn't. But she tips her chin up, like she's being stubborn and egging him on. Telling him in not so many words to go ahead, if he think he can. She's not sure Damon's ever turned down a challenge, and she doesn't want him to start now.

His fingers scrape through her hair and squeeze the nape of her neck, and everything freezes. A moment for sanity to bleed through? It passes.

His kiss is hard and rough; it almost hurts. Lips and teeth meet hers in a bruising fashion that she gives right back to him, twofold. His free hand pulls at the collar of her shirt until the fabric bends and strains and tears. Her shirt peels open, and her bra falls apart soon after. His shirt feel rough rubbing against her bare skin as she arches up into him, meeting each searching slant of his mouth.

Everything picks up after that. She's not expecting gentle and slow. She's not even sure she wants that. She just needs this feeling, this ache, to go away. And he makes that happen.

They shuffle clothes down and out of the way, but not completely off. Her shorts are on the floor and her underwear is torn open but still hanging from her waist. He lifts her up by her hips and drops her on the edge of the table. She pushes his jeans off, letting them fall to his knees before she's got him in her hands, squeezing just a little too tight, her fingers working over the length of him, thumb swiping at the head of his cock. His mouth drags down her chest and his teeth scrape the top of her breast before he's sliding a hand between her thighs and teasing her open. She spreads her legs apart and pulls him forward; the grips he has on his hips would be bruising on anyone else. He chuckles, dipping a finger inside her, and she bites her lip on a groan. She's a lot wetter than she thought she was, and she wonders, briefly, if maybe their fighting was a strange dance, a foreplay of sorts, and her body knew what was coming. Could anticipate where things were headed even as her mind rebels.

This is Damon.

Elena's Damon.

Only he doesn't feel like Elena's, not when he's pressed so deep inside her that he feels like an extension of her. Not when he's panting against her neck, his fingers digging into her skin, pulling her closer, holding her tighter. Not when her name tumbles from his lips like a well-loved prayer.

The table rocks and creaks under them, but it doesn't break. She's half-sure they've scuffed the floor, and it almost makes her laugh. Because later, she thinks she'll probably bury this whole thing in the back of her mind and refuse to remember it. But, then she'll come down for breakfast one day, see the floor, and know that some things just can't be forgotten.

His teeth scrape over her chin as she comes, and she can feel him watching her, but she closes her own. She won't lie and say she's thinking of someone else. She wasn't thinking of Jeremy as Damon's fingers rubbed her clit or his mouth left a trail of biting kisses down her neck. She wasn't thinking of how Jeremy felt or how gentle he was with her while Damon's mouth folds around her nipple and his arm wraps around her waist, pulling her in tight as he grinds his hips against her. She's not even sure she remembers her own name, let alone Jeremy's. Maybe it would be easier to excuse, to understand, if she could pretend it was someone else standing between her legs, but she doesn't. She can't.

It's been a little over six weeks since she officially died. Is this hell or heaven? If you'd asked her yesterday, she would've said hell, but then Damon fucks her so good she sees stars, and she's really not sure anymore.

.

.

.

When it's over, she lays back on the table, her body buzzing, her legs dangling over the edge, and throws an arm across her too warm face.

Damon's hands are planted on either side of her hips as he tries to catch his breath. And then he pats one against her hip. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving..."

She knows what this is. The 'let's not talk about what just happened' moment. She has a choice. Face what she's done, what they've done, or ignore it. In a different time, a different world, she would face it. She would own up to what she's done and face the consequences.

Clearing her throat, she says, "Not pancakes."

"You wound me," he jokes.

She can hear shuffling as he pulls his jeans back on, and then whistling as he makes his way around the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink. "What about spaghetti? We got everything we need here... I can make a mean pasta sauce."

Sitting up, she pushes herself off the table and grimaces as her legs shake under her. "Fine. But, I'm making a salad."

"You gonna force feed me my leafy greens here, Bon-Bon?" He raises an eyebrow, but he looks calmer. Lighter. And for the first time in a while, she feels like they're on the same page.

"If I have to."

He grins. "Salad it is."

He says nothing as she grabs up all her clothes and leaves the kitchen, making her way upstairs to shower and change. Standing under the hot spray of the shower, she almost wishes she felt guilty. That shame would swarm her like a blanket and remind her that this isn't her. This isn't who she is or what she wants and she should hate herself for it. That Elena's face might conjure itself in her mind, bringing with it tears and absolute mortification.

That doesn't happen.

Maybe it's a coping mechanism, that reminder that she's dead and may never be alive again. She still has hope for the opposite. That one day, somehow, they'll get out of here. She still believes that Grams created a way out for her. When she'll find that way out, she doesn't know. What she does know is that feeling lost and lonely is doing her no favors. Maybe sex isn't the best way of dealing with things, but it works. For now, at least.

When she gets back to the kitchen, Damon's changed, too. His clothes are still a little loose; only two buttons keep his shirt closed and his jeans perpetually hang off his hips. She tells herself it's just an objective observation, but is glad when he points to the chopping board, bowl, and freshly washed vegetables waiting for her, it gives her something to focus on. She doesn't complain when he puts on 80's rock music and sings, loud and out of tune. She might even tap her foot along to the beat. For a moment, it feels domestic. Like they're something more than frenemies caught in their own version of hell. And it's not the worst.

He's right. He does make a great pasta sauce. They eat in the living room, in front of the fire, and he trades his usual bourbon in for a nice bottle of wine. They talk about the past, their childhoods, the good parts anyway, and it feels like a breakthrough. Like some barrier that's been keeping them apart has melted away. She's not sure if it was the sex or the intimacy or just a lack of tension, but whatever it is, it helps. She tells herself it won't happen again, but he tops off her glass and she stares at where his shirt is open, revealing smooth skin, and she wants to push him back against the couch, slide into his lap, and sink her teeth into him. Shaking it off, she takes a long drag of her wine, and tells herself there isn't a glint in his eye that says he'd like that, too.

It's a one time thing.

It won't happen again.

She's a terrible liar.

.

.

.

It does happen again.

It happens a lot.

She's not sure who initiates it the next time, or the time after that. Maybe it's a mutual thing. Maybe they meet in the middle, orbiting each other until there's nothing to do but crash together.

What she does know is that she doesn't hate it. She wants it and she likes it and she looks forward to the next time. Because there's always a next time.

It might be the only good thing about hell.

(Is it hell?)

.

.

.

It's early morning. She can just feel the sun filtering in through the window, climbing the bed, warming her legs, and crawling up her stomach.

Damon's got her pressed down against the bed, her underwear dangling off one ankle, her knee hitched over his shoulder as he eats her out. Bonnie can honestly say she has never had a more eager mouth make her come. In part, because Jeremy had never done this. He'd used his fingers on her and they'd had sex before, but for as much as she'd dropped to her knees for him, he'd never done it for her. Damon seems to be trying to make up for those lost opportunities; he's made something of a habit of burying his mouth against her. She wakes up to it most mornings these days. His mouth teasing over her stomach as her bleary eyes open and find him already spreading her thighs, staring up at her with that 'can I?' look on his face that she's grown a whole new appreciation for. It takes one sharp nod and her teeth digging into her lip before he grins, eyes dark with lust, and drags his tongue from one end of her slit to the other. He likes to take his time. For all that she's called Damon impatient in the past, there are certain things that he will always linger on.

His hands wander up and down her thighs, rubbing and squeezing and parting. He keeps her open with his shoulders and presses his palm down on her stomach when she starts jerking against him, needing more pressure and less teasing. He's setting the pace here; it's both the best and worst. Bonnie loves control. It's her bread and butter. But, there are moments where she doesn't mind giving it up. Where she wants to let go and trust that, whatever happens, she'll be okay. These are those moments. As long as she's here, with Damon, as long as they're doing this, it all ends with bliss. There are no Big Bads; no death-defying magical demands; no innocent or not-so-innocent lives dangling over her head. It's just her and Damon and an unrelenting source of pleasure.

He tongues her through the first climax and right into a second one. Her vision whites out and her breath catches. She draws her knees up as he just keeps going. He only stops when she starts to pull away; after two orgasms, she's sensitive enough that it starts to hurt and she needs a break. He climbs up her body, pressing wet kisses to her hips and her stomach and her ribs, circling his tongue around each breast in a shrinking spiral until he reaches each nipple. Kisses climb a straight line up her chest, along the column of her neck up to her chin, and then he's hovering right over her mouth. His lips are still damp, puffy, and flushed red.

He keeps his eyes open as his mouth slants over hers, his tongue and teeth parting and plucking at her lips. He keeps his eyes open a lot. She wonders if he's trying to remind himself of who she is. If he ever forgets. If he ever wishes he could close his eyes and see, hear, feel, taste, have someone else.

Bonnie closes her eyes, wraps her arms around his neck, and drowns out the answers she doesn't want to know.

.

.

.

"You're cheating." Bonnie glares at him over the Monopoly board. "See, this is why you're not allowed to be banker anymore."

"Can you prove I was cheating?"

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. "Damon, there's only two of us playing. Who am I trying to prove it to? What imaginary jury is going to convict you?"

He shrugs. "I'm just saying, if you don't have proof, you shouldn't be throwing accusations around."

Her teeth grind together. "And your ego shouldn't be so fragile that you can't lose a game of Monopoly!"

"I wouldn't know because I never lose." His brows hike. "I'm starting to think you're the sore loser here, Bon."

Sighing, loud and exasperated, she throws the car piece at his forehead and stands. "I'm not talking to you until you learn how to play properly." She leaves him sitting in the kitchen with his stolen money.

"For someone who talks so much my ears hurt, you sure seem to think silence is a threat," he calls after her.

She snorts.

He lasts an hour before he starts following her around, peppering her with questions and random facts to get a reaction out of her. When she simply takes a book to the couch and blocks him out, he rolls himself over the couch to land on top of her, climbs up until his head is on her shoulder, and starts reading her book out loud.

"You're such a jerk," she tells him.

He grins. "You wanna play Scrabble?"

.

.

.

It's not really cheating, he tells her as he bends her over the kitchen counter, his fingers thrusting in and out of her from behind. It's all a mix of too much and not enough at this point. She spreads her legs wider and lets her mouth fall open in a silent cry. She can feel her thighs grow wetter and would, at any other time, with any other person, feel a flush of embarrassment at how much this does it for her. How completely, overwhelmingly, into this she is. But, she doesn't. Instead, she relishes in how freeing it is to not feel an ounce of shame in how thoroughly he makes her body come alive.

His mouth wanders across her shoulder and up her neck, stopping just behind her ear. He scrapes his teeth against her skin but never draws blood. It's tempting to ask him to. To drop her head to the side and whimper, "please." To feel his teeth penetrate her neck just like his fingers have filled her pussy. Two, moving so quickly and so deeply that she arches her hips back, tears biting at her eyes. She lets out a whoosh of breath that's mostly his name. He sinks another hand down her front and presses the edge of his palm against her clit, rubbing it in hard, rough circles. Her voice catches and her whole body goes stiff. And then, warmth, everywhere. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Heat and pleasure spread through her like a thousand little lightbulbs turning on. She goes limp after that, all too aware of how the counter digs into her stomach now. His fingers leave her, dragging up and down her thigh gently.

He presses against her; the denim of his jeans rough against her bare skin. She can feel the hard curve of his erection tucked against her ass and moves without much thought, rubbing against him as she draws in deep breaths, trying to get her legs to stop shaking and her heart to slow down. He catches her hips, his fingers folding around her sides, and squeezes. She's not sure if it's encouragement or not, but she keeps moving, like a cat in heat. Maybe that's what she is. They've been stuck here for what feels like forever but is really only three months. They'd started this... whatever this is... six weeks ago. The funny thing is, Bonnie can't remember ever being this insatiable. It wasn't that she didn't want or like sex. But there was always so much going on that she hardly ever had time to enjoy it. Or, more accurately, to explore it enough to enjoy it. She got hurried, frenzied hook ups with Jeremy where a part of her was constantly waiting for the next threat. Their mutual fumbling was endearing at the time, just a part of the life they lived. He was a good guy, sweet and caring, but also young. More experienced than her, yeah, but still young. At some point, Bonnie's stopped feeling like such a novice and started to feel like she could and should want more. She's not sure when she realized Damon could give her that.

When her legs don't feel like they'll give out on her as soon as she stands on them properly, she pushes off the counter and gets her feet under her. He's still so close that there's hardly enough room to move. She's about to turn around, to face him, when his hand wraps around her throat. It's not a warning or a threat. It's also not tight or particularly scary, like it might've been a year or two ago. His fingers spread and he pulls until her back is pressed flat against his front, molded to him. And then his fingers slide down her chest, gently skimming her skin, until they curl under a breast, thumb flicking around one nipple. He holds her there, just like that, and it's a strange sort of intimacy. Her shirt is tossed somewhere else, her underwear and skirt are puddled together on the floor, and she stands completely naked, while he is still entirely dressed. His hand arches up and pushes down, palm laid flat between her breasts, rising and falling with each breath she takes. And then his other hand slides down to lay half on her shoulder and half on her bicep while his face nuzzles against the curve of her neck.

She can see them reflected in the window, a stark contrast to one another. Her brown skin to his white, her nudity to his seeming modesty, her body standing upright and open while his seems to curve around every part of hers. They look like a piece of art. A beautiful, fragile, dichotomy of human intimacy trapped in time. She almost can't look at it. At how perfect—wrong—right—open—inevitable it all seems. So, she doesn't. She drops her gaze and she tips herself forward, turning around in the small space between them. She stares at his chest as she opens the button of his jeans and slides the zipper down. Her thumbs rub against his hips as she hooks her fingers in his boxer-briefs and pushes the denim apart. She falls to her knees and takes everything down with her, her hands skimming back up his thighs slowly. One coils around his shaft while the other wanders up his stomach, clenching and releasing under her fingers. She drags her tongue over the head of his cock and raises her eyes to meet his.

She wonders at how easy it is for him to look at her, to see her, here at his feet, naked and wanting, when his heart must ache for someone who looks nothing like her. She drops her gaze down and takes him into her mouth. A part of her wants to wipe his mind clear of anything other than this, of her, so she does just that. And when his fingers bury in her hair and his head falls back as he comes, it's her name he groans.

.

.

.

"What do you miss most?"

She wants to take back the words as soon as they leave her mouth. Because she knows the answer and it isn't one she wants to hear. With Elena comes guilt and regret and sorrow, and she's not sure she can handle that right now. Or maybe she just doesn't want to. Is that selfish? Probably. She can't find it in herself to care. The days and weeks drag on and the only reprieve from any of it is him. Maybe Elena will forgive her this one thing. After all, there was a time when Elena was tempted by him, too. A time when Stefan was supposed to be everything to her and yet she still let herself be pulled in by Damon. Bonnie had never understood that. Couldn't rectify it with her idea of love and loyalty. But now, here she is, sprawled out on a bed of pillows, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the fire dance, warmed more by his body pressed so close to hers than the fire itself.

"My brother," he tells her.

She doesn't say it's a lie, even if she's thinking it. It's not like Stefan is the wrong answer. She knows that Damon misses him. She just doesn't think he's the first answer. Maybe he's trying to bury it, too. That connection they both have to a woman who isn't there, but still divides and connects them in equal measure. Or maybe he knows that saying it will build a wall between them they can't climb over and, right now, they can't afford that.

"His judgy, grumpy, brooding face."

Bonnie smiles slowly. "I'm sure he misses you, too."

"Of course he does. What would he do without me?" He sounds more bitter than lighthearted, and she turns her head to look at him. His brow is furrowed and his mouth folds into a frown.

"He loves you, Damon. He begged me to bring you back. He cried when he realized I couldn't..." She reaches for him, her fingers sliding over his palm. "You don't have the best history..."

"Understatement," he snorts.

"But, he's always cared. Even when you tried your hardest to push him away. He's always loved you."

His hand folds around hers and squeezes. "What about you? Who do you miss?"

She turns her eyes up to the ceiling once more. She misses a lot of things and a lot of people. The person she misses most in the world isn't back home at all. "Grams."

He hums, his thumb stroking along the length of hers. "You still think she sent us here for a reason?"

"I do." She nods. "I don't know why or how or what it is we're supposed to do. But, I do think she had a plan." For months, Bonnie's been trying to get her magic to kick in and nothing has worked. She can't even light a candle, let alone find a way to send them home. But, she still has hope. It might be all she has. Hope and him.

He taps her thumb and nods. "She'd be proud of you."

"For what? Dying again?" Her chest hurts when she thinks about her Grams for too long. About what she wanted and what she got instead. Of what she expected of Bonnie, who she expected her to become, and how she never gets to see it happen.

He shakes his head. "You're a lot more than what you give up, Bon."

She's not sure what he means, or if she's ready to know. So, she doesn't ask. "What's the first thing you'll do when you get back?"

"Burn that Bodyguard DVD."

Bonnie clucks her tongue. "Liar. You love that movie."

.

.

.

Bonnie tells herself it's not cheating as she climbs into his bed, stripping the flannel shirt off herself, having given up on wearing bras for the remainder of their time in hell. He always sleeps naked, which is something she can objectively appreciate at a time like this. She's needy and she can't sleep and her mind will not shut up. She needs it to stop. Needs to stop feeling lonely in this world that's too quiet and too empty. All she has is him, which is ridiculous. What kind of luck is that? That of all the people she could've been stuck with, it had to be him. It doesn't seem fair. It's completely unfair, in fact. And yet...

He kicks the blanket off before she's even reached the bed. He knows this routine. They've gotten good at it. If it isn't him coming to her, it's her coming to him. What was once the odd hook up, unexpectedly getting wrapped around each other in a moment of sheer need, has become a daily occurrence, and she can't find it in herself to despair over that. Instead, she relishes in how easy, how right, it feels to climb into his bed, seat herself on his stomach, and bury her face at his neck. She rocks her hips back and forth, rubbing her pussy down against his stomach, and can feel him hardening behind her. She presses licking, biting kisses down his neck and across his chest, her hands skimming across his shoulders and sliding down his arms. She finds his fingers and tangles them with her own, drawing them up, high above his head, and pinning them there. He smiles at her. He can break free anytime he wants. While she doesn't have her magic anymore, he is just as strong as ever, a vampire with no real restrictions. But he likes it, when she acts like she has some hold over him, that she can keep him right where she wants him. She likes it, too. Even if it's just a fantasy.

Maybe that's what all of this is. Just one long, elaborate, incredibly detailed fantasy. Maybe her hell is knowing that she only lasted 46 days before she slept with her best friend's boyfriend. A man she'd frequently claimed to hate. A man who had gone out of his way to make her life miserable. A man who epitomized so much of what she despised about her life and the supernatural. Forty-six days and she didn't even put up a token resistance. She just spread her legs and invited his hands and his tongue to do as they pleased.

And even now, reaching between her own thighs to grip his cock and hold it steady as she slides down, she can't muster up a complaint. She can't tell herself that she hates him—who he is and what he represents. She can only let herself sink down in search of fulfilment. What does that make her? She can't be the Bonnie of before. That Bonnie had a strict set of rules that she lived by. She had morals and values that would never let her do this. Never let her want this. Never let her enjoy this. But, that Bonnie was dead. And naïve. The new Bonnie, this Bonnie, doesn't want to think about choices or consequences or the teary-eyed accusations Elena will inevitably shoot in her direction.

(How could you?)

Bonnie closes her eyes and shakes her head. She doesn't want to hear it or think about it. She doesn't want to consider a future where she goes home and she has to face someone she loved like a sister and admit that she'd slept with the 'love of her life.' That it wasn't just a one-time thing or a spur of the moment mistake. It was more than that. It was days and weeks of exploring each other. It was hours spent in beds and atop every available surface. It was losing track of time as she was pressed against the glass wall of the shower, letting the steaming hot water run cold as they got caught up.

He watches her ride him through her first climax and then turns them over, her legs hitched high on his hips as he pins her to the bed, their hands bound together again, arched atop her head. Only he isn't pressing her hands down against the bed to keep her from moving. Their fingers are threaded together and her hair gets tangled around them, lashing her wrists and his forearms as the entire bed rocks under them. His grip on her is loose, lazy, and soft. He stretches his fingers out against her own, lets the tips skirt over her knuckles and the back of her hands. He kisses her cheek and her forehead and her nose, the corners of her eyes and the curve of her lips and the hill of her chin. He kisses everywhere but her lips, hovering there, his breath warm and close. And when he grinds himself against her and she can feel that edge coming up fast, her eyes start to close, until his nose brushes against hers, and his mouth is so close that she can feel it brush her own as he says, "No." Her eyes open and meet his and they've never been so clear and blue and intense as when she falls apart and he follows.

One day, if she ever gets out of here, she's going to have to tell Elena that no, it wasn't one time. No, it wasn't a mistake. No, it didn't mean nothing. No, she can't forget it. No, she doesn't hate him. No, no, no.

Damon is heavy against her, their skin over-warm and slick with sweat. He drops his forehead to her shoulder and just breathes for a while. Their hands untangle and she runs her fingers through his hair. And then he's pressing a kiss to the center of her chest and rolling himself over to lay next to her.

It's a couple minutes before she gets up and uses the bathroom, cleaning herself up and trying not to stare at herself in the mirror, her hair in disarray and her skin peppered with all the marks he always leaves. He's not far behind her, cleaning up before he pauses at the sink, standing just behind her, his hands braced on the counter, bracketing her hips. He doesn't say anything. A feat for him, really. But, he doesn't snark at her after they do this. He never has. And she thinks that's his one concession. His rarely seen sympathetic side that doesn't make her feel worse about this. Instead, he presses a kiss to the top of her head and leaves the bathroom, climbing back into bed. He leaves the blanket up on one side in invitation. She should go back to her room; her feet take her to him instead. She falls asleep quickly and doesn't ask herself why it's so much easier when he's right there, curved around her body, his breath warm against the nape of her neck.

Because it makes no sense really, that somehow, after everything that's happened, he's her safe place.

.

.

.

Bonnie knows they're not alone. She knows that someone or something is there with them. It's a recent feeling. Between the crossword, the carousel, and Damon's car, she's absolutely sure that she isn't seeing things. Damon doesn't believe her. And she gets it, she does. Too much has happened, too much has been lost, and as time keeps ticking away, they're all the more aware of it. With every day that passes, she can feel a little more of him giving up, and she hates it. Hates that there is no way to change it or fix it. There are days that she can cope. Days where the games and talking and watching The Bodyguard over and over again are more fun than downright depressing. And then there are other days that she just wants to cry. She misses the sound of other people. She misses her friends. She misses a world she knew better than the empty, vacant, mausoleum she's trapped in. But, having Damon tell her there's no point in hoping they might get out only hurts.

"Which means we're alone in hell with no Grams' escape hatch..." His chest heaves and his face falls grim as he stares listlessly at the parking lot around them. "We're never getting out."

Bonnie stares up at him from narrowed eyes. "Give me your ring," she says and holds a hand out.

He glances at her hand. "What?"

She grabs his wrist, but he folds his fingers into his palm and tries to pull it free.

"Give me your ring." She grits her teeth and presses a hand flat against his stomach. "All I've heard you say is that you have no hope, that we're never getting out, that we're stuck here in hell!" She leans up, shouting in his face, frustrated and angry. "So, if it's so bad, why don't you just end it? Huh? If you want to be done so badly-"

Damon pulls her hand off him and holds her back, grimacing.

"Hope is the only thing I've got left, Damon." She yanks her arm free of him. "If you're done, then be done, because this isn't helping." She turns on her heel to walk away, pain lancing across her chest and tears sparking in her eyes. She wishes she could say he was the only one who's starting to give up, but she can feel it creeping in. That exhausting surrender that she hates to her very bones. Bonnie is tired. Tired of being the only one that hopes and fights and lets herself believe that somehow, despite everything, they can get through this. Just once, she wishes someone would help carry the burden.

.

.

.

She leaves sometimes. It's a thing. Sometimes he gets extra annoying just for the sake of being annoying. And sometimes she needs to cry where he can't hear her. She's stayed away for days a time in the past. This time, she doesn't get far before she goes back. In part because she feels a little bad that she essentially told him to kill himself. He's entitled to his feelings, even if he always falls on the depressed, hopeless end of the scale.

Bonnie expects to find him in the liquor aisle of the supermarket, so she isn't surprised when she does. What she doesn't expect is for him to be on the ground, surrounded by shattered bottles, his skin burning up from vervain, a stranger standing over him, ready to stake him through the back with an umbrella.

"Stay away from him," she demands.

The homicidal stranger looks up and meets her eyes. "The useless one is here... Thank God." He lowers the umbrella to his side. "I've watched you try to do magic for months now. What are you gonna do, fail at me? It's embarrassing... I'm embarrassed for you."

Bonnie can feel her heart beating too hard in her chest. She glances at Damon, and his face clears. His skin heals and his eyes soften, and for a moment she thinks he's forgiving her in something as simple as a look. It feels like a goodbye she's not ready to make. Bonnie's fingers fold into her palms, her knuckles burn as she clenches her hands into fists. No, she decides. This is not how this ends. This is not how she loses him.

There's a shift inside her then. Something distant climbs up from an unreachable depth, a link being remade, a slow burn that starts at her heart and spreads out through the rest of her body. The tips of her fingers tingle and she draws a deep breath.

The stranger raises the umbrella once more. Bonnie turns her head and spots a candle. She stares at the wick and watches a flame flicker up. Triumph bursts inside her and a grin turns her mouth up as she looks back.

"Uh-oh," the stranger mutters.

Bonnie looks to Damon, a knowing grin pulling at his mouth. "Run," she tells him.

For once in his life, he listens. He's out from harm's way in a flash, and then it's just her and the attempted murderer. "Phasmatos... incendia." The alcohol spread across the floor at the stranger's feet lights up, fire flickering all around him, penning him in.

"Okay... Okay, okay..." He tosses the umbrella aside and raises his hands in surrender.

"Giving up so soon...?" Her brows hike as her lips curl in amusement. "I'm embarrassed for you."

Damon appears behind him and bashes him over the head, sending him flying a few feet over to crash into a lawn display. To Bonnie, he says, "This might be a good time to tell you that you were right... Turns out, we aren't alone."

Crossing her arms, she tips her head and stares at him. "That's all you have to say?"

"Thank you for saving my life...?"

It's a question more than a statement, and Bonnie rolls her eyes.

"You're ridiculous." She turns on her heel to make her way outside, throwing a hand back to douse the flames as she goes.

"Love you, too," he sings after her jokingly.

She smothers a smile.

.

.

.

As it turns out, the stranger's name is Kai, and he has a way to get home. Namely, her.

"We're on the same team," he tells them.

"Really?" Bonnie snorts. "Do you always try and kill your teammates?"

"The important thing is that you have your magic back. It worked."

Damon and Bonnie exchange a look, unconvinced. Damon taps his shoulder with a fire poker and Bonnie seriously considers letting him use it on their guest.

"What, you... you didn't really think I'd kill Damon, did you?" Kai chuckles. "In what universe does that make sense? Who would kill one-third of our population? I'm not a monster. I knew Bonnie would show up. She always comes back. All thirteen times... And I knew with the right motivation she'd be able to access her magic. Although, I did get a little worried there close to the end, between the bickering and the sex, you send some mixed signals. But, I guess that's just how you two show your love..."

Bonnie scoffs. "So, you did all that just to make sure I would have my magic?"

"Of course I did." Kai smirks at them. "Because your magic is the key to getting the hell out of here."

.

.

.

They leave Kai in the den and move to the kitchen. The door has hardly swung shut for Damon's telling her, "He's lying."

"We don't know that."

"We can't trust him."

"Why not?"

"He tried to kill me!"

"A lot of people have tried to kill you and we've teamed up with them in the past." She tosses a hand up. "Hell, I've tried to kill you."

"Passively letting me die in a fire isn't exactly the same as attempted murder," he mutters dismissively.

"Setting you on fire is."

"Okay, all right, never mind. The point is that little psychopath would say anything to keep from being killed."

"So, what, we're just not going to investigate this? Damon, this could be our way home..." She stares at him searchingly. "To our friends, to—to life, to..." She doesn't say Elena, even though she's thinking it. They don't talk about her. Not after what they've done. It just feels like salt on the wound. Instead, she walks to him, and reaches for his hand, drawing it between both of hers and rubbing her thumbs across his knuckles. "A couple hours ago, you were ready to give up. What if this is the escape hatch, huh? What if he knows what Grams' plan was?"

"If he does, then why hasn't he used it?"

"Maybe he can't." She shrugs. "He said that my magic was the key, maybe he needed a Bennett."

"Which is even more suspect." His mouth purses and his eyes narrow as he glares at nothing in particular. "Whatever this place is, before we got here, he was left alone for who knows how long. Which means someone sent him here. Probably someone Grams-shaped. And she doesn't send people off to oblivion for a nice vacation, which means he's a bad guy. Ipso facto, not trustworthy."

Bonnie takes deep breath and lets it out on a sigh. "I'm not saying you're wrong. But, I am saying we at least need to hear him out."

"So, he can lie to us some more?"

"Look, if there's even a grain of truth in what he's saying, we could go home... That doesn't mean we have to take him with us."

Damon stares at her a beat, and then grins. "Bonnie Bennett, I'm rubbing off on you, aren't I?" He reaches for her and cups her face, thumb tapping against her chin. "Look at you, going dark side. I love it."

Rolling her eyes, she sighs at him, exasperated. "Focus!"

"Oh, I am." He looks giddy now, wiggling his eyebrows. "How do you wanna do this? Personally, I still wanna use the poker..."

"Or we could just ask him. Clearly, he wants out, too. If we let him think that's a possibility, he might tell us how to do it."

"Oh, Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie... So naïve."

Shoving at his chest, she turns and makes her way back to the den, where Kai is still strapped to a chair in front of the fireplace. "Explain."

After that, Kai is frustratingly annoying and deceptive, but eventually, it breaks down to needing an ascendant, an eclipse, Bonnie's magic, and a little blood. All of which they have, which means that going home is that much closer.

.

.

.

With Kai there and playing games, Bonnie expects it to upset the status quo. He's an outlier, something they can't account for and certainly can't trust. Not to mention, he knows things about them. Personal things. Like he's just been there, watching it all unfold, playing viewer to their lives like they're his favorite TV show. It rubs her wrong. And that's not even taking into account the fact that her skin crawls when he gets too close. There's something about him. Something missing or off or wrong about him. She just can't put her finger on it...

And then she sees the newspaper.

A family massacred in Oregon, and the only survivor is a missing son: Malachi Parker.

"Who names their kid Malachi? It's like they wanted me to be evil."

He admits to it with the kind of blasé honesty that makes her stomach twist and her heart lurch. There's no humanity there. No grief or sorrow or regret. He's a sociopath, and this was supposed to be his prison.

.

.

.

Kai walks away, further into the woods, using the ascendant to measure where, exactly, they should be in order for this all to work. Bonnie drags Damon back across the lawn and stares at him. "We can't do this."

"Can't do what? You said it yourself, we don't need to bring him with us." His hands find her shoulders and squeeze. "He shows us where to go and how to do this, we leave him behind. Easy as pie."

Bonnie purses her lips. He makes it sound so easy, like the only other person stuck in this world didn't just admit that he'd violently killed his own family. Now that she was aware of what he did, of why he was sent to this place, she can't help but feel like the hope of just a few hours ago is quickly dwindling. She knows her Grams. If she sent Kai to this place without any way to get home, that means she didn't want him to get out. What is she supposed to do with that information?

"What if it doesn't work like that? What if he doesn't tell us how to do it unless he's guaranteed a way out?"

"Hey, you're overreacting..." He stares at her searchingly. "This might be our only way out. Are we going to throw that away for him?"

She stares up at him, conflicted.

And then a whistle breaks through the tension. "Hey, lovebirds, are we having a little tiff? Don't tell me it's over me. I'd hate to get between you two guys..."

Bonnie presses her lips together. "No. We're fine..." She pulls away from Damon and starts for the house. "Just fine."

.

.

.

She's not fine.

In the last two days, she's gotten her powers back, nearly lost Damon, and found out his would-be killer, their only way home, is a psychopathic magic-stealing serial killer. Whatever hope she had feels like it's riding a roller coaster, up and down and all around, and she's not quite sure where it's going to stop.

Damon finds her in his bathtub, hugging a bottle of vintage wine to her chest.

"That stuff's usually better chilled..." He takes a seat on the edge of the tub as he dangles his fingers in the steaming water.

She looks up at him, her eyes puffy and wet. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Then let me." He stares at her, intense and serious. "We let him get close, let him think he's with us, and at the last minute, I'll take him out myself."

She sinks a little deeper in the water, letting it slosh over her shoulders. "What if he figures it out?"

"Then I kill him back home. Either way, he dies." He purses his lips and trails his fingers over her knee as it crests the water. "I won't let him hurt you, Bon."

"It's not just me I'm worried about. If he can take my power and use it, I'm not the only one he can hurt. There's you and everyone back home. I—"

"Trust me." He drags his fingers down the slop of her damp, soapy leg. "I'll do everything I can to keep that from happening."

Bonnie stares at him a beat, and then nods. She tips her wine back and takes a long guzzle before she holds it out for him.

His mouth hitches up and he takes it, knocking back a swig of his own before he puts it aside, noticeably out of her reach. "You feeling any better?"

She shrugs.

After the sunset, Kai had picked up on her reticence to be around him and cornered her in the kitchen. He'd made it clear that if they thought they were leaving him behind, they were wrong. He could drain her powers any time he felt like it, and it wouldn't cost him much effort.

"It hurt," she whispers. "Like something inside me was tearing..." A little piece of her magic felt like it was gone, never to be found again, and she hates it.

Damon slides off the edge of the tub to kneel next to it. He reaches for her, pushing a loose tendril of hair off her cheek and behind her ear. "By this time tomorrow, we'll be home."

His words are meant to be soothing and, in a way, they are. She does want to go home. She's just not sure what happens after that.

He presses a kiss to her forehead and stands. "I'm gonna make dinner. You wanna eat it up here or downstairs?"

"I'll come down," she decides.

She wants to stay up here and hide in the comfort of Damon's bedroom. But, she doesn't want Kai to know she's hiding. She doesn't want him to know that a very real part of her is scared of him. So instead, she plans to show him he can't intimidate her. He can't break her.

As if Damon knows, he nods, and winks at her. He also takes the wine with him as he leaves.

By this time tomorrow, she'll be home, and everything will be different.

Bonnie regrets giving him the wine.

.

.

.

Bonnie wants out. She wants so desperately to be in a world with people and noise. At the same time, another part of her, an insecure little voice whispering at the back of her head, reminds her that 'life' was not always all it was cracked up to be. Her reputation back home was that of the sacrificial martyr, waiting for the next apocalypse to demand her life in exchange for everyone else's. She's not sure she has it in her to do that again. She's not sure she would've survived this one without Damon, who she'll have to watch run back into Elena's arms, leaving her in the dust. And Bonnie knows—she knows she knows she knows—that falling for him was never an option. Never a choice. Because he can't fall back. Not for her. And this, all of this, was just a way to get through it. A way to feel connected to the only other person they had.

She's still thinking these things as she lays in her bed, staring at the ceiling. And then the door is open and she knows it's Damon. She can feel it. That presence he has. He walks deeper into the room, letting the door fall closed behind him, and crawls across the bed. She has questions. So many questions. But, like always, the answers won't be what she wants them to be, so she swallows them down. He reaches for her, dragging the blanket and sheet down and out of the way, and then he's fingering the end of her tank top, drawing it up her body, inch by inch. He traces concentric circles across her stomach and teases his fingertips over the ticklish spot on her ribs. He shifts her shirt higher and higher, until it's off, and he can toss it away.

She's seen him play the piano before; long, tapered fingers moving over ivory keys with the kind of gentle reverence she wouldn't expect from him. But, he's like that. He traces the hollows and curves of her body like they're new and familiar at the same time. He circles her nipples until they pebble almost painfully, drawing wider circles around her breasts, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He traces the tips of all four of his fingers, back and forth, along the lines of her collar bones. He walks them up her neck, pausing over her quick-beating pulse, and higher still, until they teeter on her chin. And then they're skimming along the edge of her mouth. It tickles, and a shiver spins down her body.

Is this goodbye?

One last time, before it's all gone. Before they have to go back to who they were and pretend none of this happened. Maybe she doesn't tell Elena that she had Damon, even for a little while. She had all of him in a way she never knew she could; never knew she wanted. Maybe they keep this secret for the rest of their lives. Draw it up from time to time in the peaceful place of their minds, where there's no judgment, only a quiet reminiscence that leaves them a little sad. Maybe she stands at their wedding and watches him pledge himself to her best friend and that hollow ache behind her heart grows just a little, but she doesn't say anything. Just lets it be. And maybe twenty, thirty, sixty years from now, he'll look at her and say, 'We had fun, didn't we, Bon?' And she'll smile and say, 'Yeah, we did.'

Bonnie turns onto her side and reaches for him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt as she meets his eyes. He undresses slowly, and she strips her underwear off, throwing them in the vague direction of her top. They take their time coming together. She wants to remember all of this. Every inch of the body she doesn't think she'll see again. She wants to remember the scar on his shoulder that he got when he was a little boy. The hills of his arms and his stomach and his face. The hollows of his neck and the shape of his knees. The dip of his hips and the lines leading down to the length of his cock. She wants to remember the sounds he makes and which places her touch makes his breath catch. She wants to remember the look in his eyes as he watches her, the sound of her name on his lips, drunk on bliss. She wants to remember what his fingers feel like, slotted between her own, palm to palm. What his mouth tastes like, teeth and tongue joining the fray. She wants to remember the way her whole body lights up, every inch of her warm and floating, pleasure stealing away thought and air alike.

It's late, after four in the morning, when it ends. When she comes for the last time, seated in his lap, arms wrapped around him, his mouth pressed to the top of her breast as he pants. His hands pressed to her back, fingers dug in against her skin. She runs her hands over his hair, down his neck, and across his shoulders. In a few hours, she'll be dressed, whatever she's feeling right now locked away deep in her heart. But, for this moment, naked in every way she can be, she lets herself want for something she can never keep.

.

.

.

When she's laying on the cave floor, wearing a hole in her gut like it's the latest fashion, she wants to laugh. She really does. Just when it seems like maybe, somehow, life might be throwing her a bone, a sociopath gets thrown in the mix. It's just her luck that killing him with a pick-axe doesn't stick and he comes back with a vengeance.

Crawling around the dirt and twig covered ground, she stretches an arm out and grabs the ascendant.

Damon is fighting against Kai, pressed backwards over a jagged rock. "Bonnie," he grunts, "get... out... of here..."

Tears swim in her eyes and she smiles, sad and knowing. "I'm not gonna make it..." Determination fills her. "But you are." She throws a hand out "Modus!"

Kai is torn from Damon and thrown away, rolling to a rough stop.

Meanwhile, Damon is forcibly drawn toward the light beaming down through the opening in the cave ceiling. He catches the ascendant as its thrown to him, the gears moving and shifting as the light hits it. "No." He looks up, startled, his eyes wide. "No!"

And then he's gone and she's left behind. Again. Her face falls and the tears drip down her cheek. Her whole body gives up, slumping to the floor. She's glad in a way. He's out and he's free. That's all that matters, right? It seems even in the prison world, she's still a sacrificial martyr. She was never good at learning her lesson.

.

.

.

What follows is a terror-filled game of 'keep away.'

Bonnie escapes Kai's clutches, broken ascendant in hand, and makes her way to the hospital to try and fix the wound in her stomach. In a mostly empty world with a life-threatening injury, it isn't hard for Kai to find her. She puts up a good fight, in her opinion. It's a little hard to focus on putting him out of commission when her stomach is on fire and every inch of her body feels battered and tired. But, she tries. It even seems like she's winning at times. And then she's in Damon's car and Kai's hand is around her throat as he tells her there's no way out of this. She's going to take them back and that's all there is to it.

Except, he's wrong. She puts her powers in Miss Cuddles and sends her teddy bear away, far out of reach. She's done a lot of things in her life, things she's not always proud of, but keeping Kai in prison isn't one of them. She only regrets that it means she's stuck there, too.

But then, when has life ever been easy on her?

Trick question. It never has.

.

.

.

One might think that would be enough, but Kai shoves her into the trunk of the car and drives out to Oregon. It's strange and creepy to be in his childhood home, plagued with the shadows of a family that was destroyed under his calculating hand.

In pain and still dizzy on car fumes, Bonnie's not sure what she's supposed to be getting out of his trip down memory lane. But then she has a knife in her gut. A knife his sister had once hidden her own magic in, which means Kai has his sister's powers, an ascendant with her blood on it, and a very real way home.

Meanwhile, Bonnie has a whole lot of regret, a knife wound, and an even emptier prison world to greet her when she wakes up.

She passes out in a pool of her own blood and hopes Grams can forgive her.

.

.

.

Bonnie takes comfort in her memories. They're about all she has left. She patches herself up as best as she can and makes her way back to Virginia, slow and sluggish. Eventually, she'll gather herself together and start looking for another way home. But, for a little while, all she does is drink and sink. Depression is a welcome friend. One she knows all too well. She spends days curled up on the couch, drowning in her misery, going over every decision she made and second guessing it all. Wallowing isn't particularly helpful, but she thinks she might deserve a moment to mourn her hope.

The house is especially quiet without Damon there to help fill it with his noise and his music and his terrible dancing. That only makes it harder. She sleeps in his bed and wears his clothes and wishes she didn't feel so pathetic for it. He was probably back home, reuniting with Elena, happy to be alive and whole, while she was here. Alone and lost and missing something she never really had.

She thinks about that a lot. What it meant or didn't mean and what she wanted it to mean. Because that's what it really comes down to. Hope versus reality. For a while, she convinced herself that they were just an isolated response to their situation, but now she wonders if maybe she wanted more from him. If maybe, on the darkest nights, she let herself believe he held her tighter, kissed her harder, needed her more. If maybe she left a lasting mark on him like he did on her. The reality is, she is alone, and he isn't. And the only one who can change that is her.

She wants to go home. Not for Damon, not really. She misses him, she might even love him, but her reason for living is not intrinsically tied to him.

Bonnie wants to live for herself... So, she will.

.

.

.

When she finally pulls it together and sets her mind to getting out, she finds a map, one of Damon's many attempts at finding a way home, and sees possibilities. She can do this. It won't be easy, it'll take time and work, but she can make this happen. So, she does.

Bonnie travels to Nova Scotia, she gets Silas' headstone, and she sucks it dry, absorbing Qetsiyah's ancient magic. It takes three months all together, but ascendant and Bennett powers in tow, Bonnie returns to Mystic Falls and makes her way to the cave to send herself home.

There's no one there to greet her. No open arms to hug her or best friends to cry with in relief. But she wasn't expecting that. As far as the world is concerned, Bonnie Bennett is really and truly dead. For a moment, she considers letting it continue to think so. She could hitchhike her way out of Mystic Falls and run far, far away. She'd never have to look back. Never have to face what she'd done and who she'd done it with. But, then she remembers Kai.

Kai who had tortured and terrified her. Kai who left her behind to die. Kai who would only bring more pain and terror to those around him. And maybe it's that little bit of martyr complex stirring up inside her, but Bonnie figures she should get rid of him before she walks away. After all, it's a little bit her fault he's out in the first place. If it wasn't for her dying, for Grams' back-up plan, for her letting him catch her and use her blood, he wouldn't be free.

Besides, she thinks, she owes him a little pain.

* * *

 **author's note** : _this story has been separated into three parts, the other two parts of which are already finished. it's semi AU due to the fact that they slept together in the prison world and you can see through a few different conversations that the canon has been changed a little (for example, i ignored the whole 'damon killed his nephew's pregnant partner in 1994' narrative cause it didn't flow with mine and was just kind of distracting from the main plot). but also because the timeline has shifted some back in the regular world. so, the next chapter covers bonnie's return to the world, kai, and her reunion both with damon and her friends. i skim over basic canon for season 6, but you'll see some obvious changes in what's happened._

 _if you can't tell, the original idea behind the story was 'it's not really cheating,' which you see threaded throughout, but then i kept going and it blew up into something much bigger than that. i like to think you get a fairly clear idea of damon's thoughts through how he acts with bonnie over the growth of their sexual relationship. how he starts off a little rough and becomes more and more gentle and reverent with her. the way he talks to her, reaches for her, and wants to protect her are also signs of what he thinks of what's happening. but it will be explored in more depth._

 _having already finished the rest of the story, i'm happy to post sooner rather than later. but it'd be great to get some feedback before i do, so please try to leave a review! :)_

 _thanks for reading,  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	2. renewal

**chapter rating** : pg-13+  
 **warning(s)** : coarse language; explicit sexual situations; violence; gore  
 **word count** : 12,200

* * *

 **ii**

Bonnie doesn't plan on going to Damon. It's not that she doesn't miss him; she does. But her mission, her aim, is more that that. She _needs_ to destroy Kai. She needs him to pay for what he did to her. And she needs to make sure he can't hurt anybody else. She tells herself that's all it is. That she's only lingering because Kai is a threat she needs to get rid of before she leaves. But, there's a part of her that wants to storm the boarding house and see Damon for herself. She wants to hear his voice again before she goes. Because she does plan on leaving. He made her no promises about what they were. She likes to think that, beyond whatever feelings she has, they've built a friendship, at least. But staying doesn't feel like an option, not when she knows what it means. There's been too much pain, too much loss and loneliness; she won't subject herself to watching him find happiness and wholeness with someone else while she struggles not to drown.

So, she keeps a low profile and tries to track Kai down— not an easy feat when she has nothing of his to use for a locator spell. And when it's over, Damon will go on believing she died back in the prison world. He'll live out his life with Elena and the others, and that's that. It's kind, she decides. Not so much to him but to her. They had their goodbye, they don't need another.

But all her tracking does is bring her to the boarding house, and she could really laugh at her luck, if she didn't resent it so much.

She should've expected that Damon would go out of his way to pay Kai back for his part in everything. She could always count on him to take things personally and react accordingly. Damon isn't home when she makes her way inside. It's not as hollow feeling as it once was in the prison world, but she can't help but get caught on the changes. The furniture and the art and even something as simple as lighter drapes on the windows. It helps remind her that she's home; time has finally moved and she isn't stuck, alone, in 1994 again. She's _back_ and she knows exactly where to find Kai.

She cuts through the kitchen to the door leading downstairs. The cellar door is closed, but there's a sense of tension and forewarning on the air. The tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stands. She knows what she'll find before she gets there.

The cellar door creaks as it opens, revealing a single chair in the center of the room. Kai is strapped to it, beaten severely, bleeding from various open wounds, slash marks across his arms, abdomen, and legs. His skin is pale and clammy, utterly sickly.

"You smell like death."

It takes effort for him to raise his head, but he does it. He laughs as his glassy, bloodshot eyes fall on her. His dry, cracked lips split into a wide, manic grin. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite witch... Gotta say, Bonster, I really didn't think you'd make it back. If you untie my hands, I'll give you a standing ovation. You really pulled it through in the end, huh? Not so useless after all."

She stares at him, her brow knit. "You mean after you _stabbed_ me?"

He grins, showing off blood-stained teeth. "In my defense, I thought if you lived, you'd come after me. Case in point, here you are."

"Looks like somebody else got to your first." She crosses her arms. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, well, your surly lover doesn't like to hear the word 'no.'" He sighs, long and dramatic. "No, I _won't_ bring Bonnie back. No, I _don't_ think she's alive. No, I don't know another way into the prison world. _Blah, blah, blah_. Guy just can't take a hint, you know?"

"Damon did this to you?" She looks him up and down, his shirt was soaked through with thick, viscous blood. His cheeks are gaunt too, like he hasn't eaten in a while. She wonders how long Damon has had him in here, and how long he has left. He doesn't look like he has much left in the tank.

As if he can guess what she's thinking, he tells her, "Had to keep me alive, just in case those nos became yeses." Kai grins, like he's amused, but there's ice in his eyes, and she knows that all he wants to do is kill them. "Gave me a bit of a complex, you know? I used to have more self-worth, but now it's all, 'tell me how to find Bonnie or I'll feed you your entrails.' The first couple times, yeah, I appreciated the intensity, but then it just got _old_. I have a lot more to offer than just 'prison world infomercial.'"

Bonnie shakes her head. "He should've killed you."

Kai lurches forward in his chair and grits his teeth at her. "That's what _I'm_ saying. Follow through is _so_ important."

She watches him a moment, straining against his bindings, and then she pulls a knife from behind her, hooked on her belt. A hunting knife, the blade wide and sharp, a nasty curve at the tip. "I thought about this a lot. How I might pay you back for what you did to me... Chasing me, choking me, _stabbing_ me... All those games you'd play, getting into my head, letting me think you might let me live..."

"I bore easily." He shrugs. "I had to get my kicks where I could."

Bonnie taps the knife against her stomach, over a notch of raised and puckered skin. "I had to sew it closed myself. I'll have that scar for the rest of my life."

"I'm sure Damon will kiss it better for you." His brow falls heavy over his eyes as his chin dips and he stares up at her. "You're an upgrade from the other chick. What was her name again? _Elena_..." He watches her, searching for any kind of reaction. "I know you think I'm not a fan, but honestly, I _do_ like you, Bonnie. I even like Damon. Maybe it's because you two were the first people I'd seen in twenty-odd years. Or maybe it was just the front-row seat to your little love story, you know? I mean, research shows I don't have much of a heart, but boy, if I did..." He whistles. "I'd be OTPing you too, _hard_. That's what the kids call it today, right? I'm still working on my internet slang."

Bonnie glares at him. "You don't know us."

"Oh, I think I know you pretty well. Better than most of your friends, anyway. Maybe not as well as Damon, but he got the hands-on experience. I just got to play voyeur on your Cat & Mouse foreplay... Well, that and a pretty memorable time you two made use of the kitchen table."

She steps forward, her lip curled in a sneer. " _Enough_."

He smirks at her. "Does it bother you? That all your intimate little moments with him weren't as secret as you thought? You two were like _bunnies_ , all that pent up unresolved sexual tension. It was _exhausting_ watching you fight it. But, hey, the pay off was pretty phenomenal."

Taking a deep breath, she grinds her teeth together. "What was the point to any of this? You got out. You were _free_. And yet, here you are... Did you even leave town?"

He tips his head. "What does any sociopath want? Chaos. _Entertainment._ Mystic Falls is drama center. You screw your best friend's boyfriend. Your best friend wipes her memories of said boyfriend. Damon's caught in the middle, between loyalty and love. Throw a little murder and torture around and it spices it all up."

Bonnie scoffs. "We're not a TV show. You don't get to manipulate us like that."

"I don't know, I think I'm doing a pretty good job so far." He nods, turning his gaze away. "I'm looking forward to the series finale. Does Damon end up with the witch or the doppelgänger? Who walks away happy? Who lives, who dies?"

"I've got a spoiler for you." Bonnie steps forward, her fingers flexing on the grip of the knife. " _You_ die."

.

.

.

The first time Bonnie sees Damon after she gets back, she's walking out of the cellar, blood covering her arms up to her elbows. It's spattered across the front of her shirt and down her legs. Kai is gone. There's no coming back from that. She looks up as she feels it, that shift in the air. Damon's only twenty feet away, but it's still too much. The knife drops to the ground with a clatter and she draws a deep breath, letting it out on a shuddering cry. Her knees feel like they're about to buckle and her mouth wobbles. Not for Kai, not exactly. He deserves what he got. But, there's some part of her that wonders who she is now. What the prison world made her. And if there's any going back. If she even _wants_ to.

Damon is there, catching her before she can fall, his arms around her waist, gathering her up into a hug. She wraps her arms around him, smearing blood across the shoulders of his shirt, and buries her hands in his hair, her face pressed against his chest. They stand there for a little while, with him holding her just a little too tight, his chin balanced atop her head. Her breathing levels out from the quick, panting breaths they started out as, leaving her a little dizzy and a lot drowsy.

It could be seconds or minutes that pass, she's not sure. But eventually, he bends, hooks an arm under her knees, and lifts her up. Everything blurs around her and when it comes back into focus, she's standing in his bathroom. Her legs are a little steadier, but she feels lost and distant, seeing but not present. Damon strips her clothes off her, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and then he's turning on the shower, testing the water with his hand. He undresses himself too and draws her under the hot spray. His hands knead at her shoulders as he tries to catch her eye.

"When?" he asks.

"A few days ago," she murmurs, staring at his chin. "I... I was looking for him. I needed to..." Her voice catches. _I needed to kill him_.

"He's gone. _Hey_..." He pulls her in and hugs her again, the water sluicing down around them as his hands rub her back. It's not like before, when a shower inevitably led to him pinning her against the glass wall. His hands are gentle and soothing now, palms moving in circles over her shoulder blades. "You're okay," he says, his mouth brushing against her ear.

Bonnie closes her eyes and buries her face against him. _Was she?_ She doesn't feel okay. Lost, confused, empty. But, not okay.

Damon doesn't expect an answer. He just steps back and starts washing her. He scrubs the blood from her arms and her hands, washes it all away down the drain, and then he washes everything else, too. Her usual body wash isn't side by side his own like in the prison world, so he uses his own. The smell is stronger, but it's familiar and comforting. She has a routine for her hair, so he doesn't touch it. She's going to have to go in and see a hairdresser soon anyway. When everything else is scrubbed clean, and his own hair is washed of the blood she'd smeared in it, he lifts up her hands and turns them over. "Are we wrinkled enough?"

She looks down at her pruney fingers and nods.

He presses a kiss to her forehead before he turns off the water. And then he's rubbing a soft towel down her body before doing the same to himself. Leaving their clothes and towels behind, he brings her into the room and leaves her by the bed. Bonnie feels like she's on automatic, following where he leads, lost in her head.

"Have you eaten?" he wonders, as he quickly pulls on underwear and a pair of jeans before digging around in search of a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her.

Bonnie shakes her head. Her hair is dripping and the water is already cool on her warm skin, streaking down her back and making her shiver.

"C'mere." He slides the shirt over her head, drawing her arms through the sleeves. She lifts her legs as he holds the boxers out for her to step into. Settling them on her hips, he squeezes her sides and catches her eyes. "I'll make you something. You want an omelet or some soup?"

They're in the kitchen before she can blink and her head spins a little. She's eaten here or there over the last few days of tracking Kai down, but not a lot. "Soup," she tells him. "And a sandwich."

He half-smiles at her. "Grilled ham and cheese? I can do that." He sets her down at the table and then gets a fire going in the grate. It feels nice and familiar and comforting. He drops another kiss on top of her head and she stops herself from leaning into it. Gentle Damon isn't someone she gets to see often, so she wants to soak it in. But, she's also worried if she draws attention to it, he might stop. So, instead, she sits and watches him as he moves around the kitchen.

He grabs a pot out of a low cupboard, spins it around by the handle, and drops it on the stove. Pivoting, he makes his way to the canned goods cupboard, digging around for the right can of soup. His fingers twitch on the cupboard door and he whistles to himself before deciding on which one she'll like. He tosses it in the air and catches it as he walks back to the counter, pulling a can opener out from a drawer. She stares at the furrow of his brows as he works, taking in every little twitch he makes, every flicker of emotion that passes his face. He's as much in his head as he's there cooking.

Once the soup is going, he moves to the fridge, pulling out a thick block of orange cheese and a baggie of fresh lunch meat. Bonnie rests her elbows on the edge of the table, her hands cupped under her face as she watches him butter bread before he lays a piece down on the pan, adding cheese, two slices of ham, more cheese, and a second piece of bread. She can hear the butter sizzling and his quiet, absent humming, but that's it. Outside, the world is alight with noise, with people and animals and cars. But here, it's just them. She can almost forget the last few months where she was alone without even his voice to drown out the quiet. She's missed him. God, she's missed him _so much_.

There were days, _too many_ days where she wasn't sure she could do it. As hard as it was when it was just them, the creeping depression of not finding a way out always present, it was so much worse when it was just her. When the only way out was made seemingly impossible and there was nothing to do but face an endless eternity of miserable loneliness. At least when he was there, forever wasn't quite as daunting. It wasn't perfect, far from it. But, they had each other, if nothing else. Without him, it was just Bonnie, stuck in a quiet world with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. She had no idea just how dark her own mind could be until she was left alone with it.

A clatter draws her from her mind and she blinks back into the present. There's a bowl of steaming soup and a plate with her sandwich on it, cut into four pieces. He brings her a glass of tea too, to warm her up she guesses. And then he takes a seat across from her, just watching. He doesn't say anything until she's halfway through her food, and she's taken her time eating. It's a feat for him, she imagines, not asking all the questions he must have. She's expecting him to want to know 'how.' How'd she survive? How'd she get out? Why did it take so long?

Instead, he says, "I thought you were _dead_." His voice rasps on the last word, like it takes effort to say or acknowledge.

She raises her eyes to meet his and is struck by how much emotion is stirring there. Pain and hope and something she's never been able to identify. "I thought so, too," she admits. There were days she wasn't sure she had survived. That maybe hell was giving her something and taking it away. Letting her believe she could get out and then showing her different. Letting her feel safe and protected with one man only to know fear and terror with another.

He shakes his head and looks away. "I asked him... I asked if you were..."

"He left me for dead."

His gaze moves to her again, but lower this time, and she remembers how he'd lingered in the shower, stuck on the scar that marred her stomach. A forever reminder. He didn't say anything, just scrubbed around it gently. But, he knew... He knew where it came from and who gave it to her. "But, you lived."

She nods slowly. "I had to hide my magic from him." Her brow furrows. Qetsiyah's magic was still there, deep inside her, but it wasn't _hers_. It felt foreign in a way. She wanted her own magic back. "I put it in Miss Cuddles. Is she—?"

"I have her." He nods. "Upstairs. I... I found her in the cemetery. Took it as a sign at first, but then Kai said..." He shakes his head, his lips pressed flat.

She stares at him as she stirs her soup absently. "You didn't give up." She's not sure if she sounds confused or surprised, but that's how she feels.

His brow furrows. "Course not."

"But you thought..."

"I know what Kai said, but I also know you. I know how _stubborn_ you are..." His mouth pulls up faintly, but then it falls. "Even if he was right, I couldn't... Couldn't just _leave_ you there."

Bonnie's eyes burn with sorrow and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispers.

He frowns. "I didn't do anything. You got back on your own. This is all you."

She licks her lips as a tear streaks down her cheek. "You didn't forget me." Her voice catches and comes out more like a whisper, "It matters."

"Hey..." He reaches for her, his fingers outstretched. She stares at his hand a beat before she reaches back. "You're kind of unforgettable."

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head, but keeps holding his hand.

"Eat up. You'll need your strength." He wiggles his eyebrows at her. "Coming back to life is hard work."

Bonnie rolls her eyes, but a sense of peace fills her.

She's back.

She's _home_.

.

.

.

Later that afternoon, Bonnie sits in the den, a blanket over her lap and a book open in her hands. Damon walks through with a shovel, turned up to rest against his shoulder, and a handful of garbage bags.

"I'm taking out the trash. I'll be back in an hour or so," he says, before dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.

He leaves the room whistling a jaunty tune, making his way down to the cellar. He's still whistling as he walks down the hall, out of sight, carrying Kai's dead body over his shoulder. She listens as the car starts up and leaves, and then settles deeper into the couch. It feels strange again, being alone. She tries to keep reading her book, but her mind wanders elsewhere. Damon is out there, cleaning up her mess. The very dead body of a man she _murdered_. She wants to feel bad about it. And she did, kind of, when it first happened, but now she tells herself it was the right thing to do. He was a danger to everyone around him. And he'd _hurt_ her. In a way, yes, it was vengeful, but it was also cathartic. And really, a service to the world. One less sociopath to terrorize them, too.

Damon returns a couple hours later, a little dirtier than when he left. He doesn't have the bags or the shovel this time, but he does have a bag of take-out with him. "I'm gonna grab some plates and wash up. You want anything to drink?"

"Water." Drowning herself in bourbon would only be a temporary balm, and not a vice she wants to pick up when she's already in an emotionally unstable place.

He nods and then makes his way down the hall to the kitchen. When he returns, he has a pair of plates piled high with Chinese food, chopsticks, and a bottle of water under his arm. He lays their food out on the coffee table and hands her the bottle. "We should watch a movie later," he says as he digs into his chow mein. "Something Whitney-approved."

Bonnie smothers a smile. "The Bodyguard? You said you were sick of it."

He shrugs. "I'm feeling nostalgic."

.

.

.

Bonnie doesn't leave the boarding house for a week. Not so much because she _wants_ to be there, she's had plenty of time to get tired of it while in the prison world, but more because once she's back and has time to really focus on herself, she realizes she needs to _rest_. Between the depression that swallowed her up after Damon went back, her make-shift doctoring to keep herself alive, Kai terrorizing her, her trip to Nova Scotia and back, and then her three-day search for Kai, she's not exactly in tip top shop. She's actually a little bit messed up, which... She's not comfortable admitting. For as long as Bonnie can remember, she's always had to be strong. She had to get up and fight when every inch of her body was telling her to just lay down and die. She'd had to dredge up every reserve of magic while it fought her every step of that way. She'd put her life on the line more times than she can count and she didn't always win.

So, for the first time in a long time, Bonnie rests. The most taxing thing she does is reabsorb her magic from Miss Cuddles. After that, she naps, takes long baths, reads for hours, and putters around the house. Sometimes she cleans or organizes or just puts on music and dances around the den. It feels good.

In the mornings, she sits outside, just to hear the birds chirp and watch the squirrels climb the trees. She lets Damon cook for her—anything but pancakes—and she trades her in 1994 threads for her updated wardrobe, which she sends Damon to pick up for her. She hasn't told anyone but him she's back and, for whatever reason, the gang steers clear of the boarding house.

Damon finds her on a bench in the backyard on the third morning. It's late November, which means the weather is steadily growing colder, but it feels nice. Every day in the prison world, the weather was the same, a little too warm. It makes the cold that much more welcome. She's wearing his bathrobe over her thickest pajamas, her legs crossed under her, slippers covering her feet. He hands her a mug of coffee and settles down on the bench next to her. He's dressed, his hair still damp from a shower.

"It feels weird," she tells him.

"What?"

"Not fighting something." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I keep waiting for Kai to come back or some new enemy to show their face."

"Maybe everyone's on vacation." He swings an arm behind her and spreads it out along the back of the bench. "Even bad guys need a day off, Bon."

She smiles faintly, but it dies as she wonders, "Are you sure he's dead? I mean... Maybe he protected himself somehow. Some reserve of magic or something."

"Wasn't much left for him to protect." He shrugs. "I buried him in three different places. He's gone."

A sigh of relief leaves her and she leans back. "Can I ask you something?"

"You've never been shy before."

Her gaze falls to her coffee mug, watching wisps of steam form in the air. "I haven't seen anyone else. No Stefan or Caroline or Elena..."

He hums. "Yeah, they've been keeping their distance."

She tips her head and looks at him. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I wasn't the best company after I got back... Between keeping Kai prisoner and trying to get you back, I was a little... off-kilter."

"They didn't approve of keeping Kai?" Her brow furrows. "He was a sociopathic killer."

"See, you and I knew that. They didn't get a chance to see his full range of crazy. Then Stefan had his hands full with Caroline. She flipped her switch after her mom died."

Bonnie's heart lurched. "Liz died?"

"Yeah." Damon shifts in his seat. "Cancer."

A hand unfolds from the mug and reaches for him, settling on his knee and squeezing. "You were friends."

"We had our moments." He stares off into the distance for a while. "Anyway, Care-bear couldn't take it, so she went Dark Side for a while. Stefan was handling it. But, between juggling her and my extra-curricular torture, he made his choice."

Bonnie isn't sure how to feel about that. Should she take it personally that Stefan prioritized Caroline or be glad he was there to help her friend? As far as they knew, Bonnie was probably dead, so torturing Kai would more than likely just lead to a body retrieval rather than a happy reunion. Still, a part of her is a little hurt that it seemed only Damon was trying to get her home.

"They tried in the beginning," he says, like he knows where her head is at. "Caroline was championing the 'get Bonnie and Damon back' cause and trying to get the magic ban lifted off Mystic Falls. One out of two isn't bad."

She purses her lips. "I've missed a lot."

"You'll catch up. You're a quick learner."

She stares out at the treeline and forces herself to ask, "And Elena?"

He sighs, long and heavy. "Elena is Damon-free... She had her memory scrubbed. Just the interesting parts, though. As far as she remembers, I'm just Stefan's dick brother who got himself killed. And, now I'm back, to be a menace and general pain in the ass. She's shacked up with some Lockwood 2.0 reject."

Bonnie hums. "I'm sorry. I know you were hoping for a different reunion when you got back."

He shrugs. "Could be worse."

She looks at him then, her brows hiked. "How?"

He stares back at her. "I could be alone."

"Oh, well, glad I could be here to share in your misery," she jokes.

A slow smile turns his mouth up. And then he wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her over, until she's leaned up against his side. She unfolds her legs and stretches them out in front of her. Damon knocks his foot against one of her slippers. "Cute."

They're fuzzy and purple and, yeah, cute.

"Thanks." She rests her head against him and watches a crow dive from a branch, swooping off into the distance.

.

.

.

She dreams about the prison world sometimes. At night, she stays in Damon's room. She never asked but he never kicks her out. She just needs him close. Mostly, she tells herself, as a reminder that she isn't alone. It helps that he always holds her, curling himself around her, his chest pressed to her back, his breath warm against the nape of her neck. Falling asleep isn't hard, it's staying asleep that she struggles with. Her nightmares are vivid and consuming, leaving her stuck, desperately trying to get free of her bleak mind.

Sometimes they're about Kai, stabbing her over and over again. Most of the time, though, she finds herself in the boarding house. She never got out and Damon is long gone. It's just her, spiralling and alone, unable to take it. But there's no reprieve. No way to make it stop.

She startles awake, her heart pounding and her skin clammy.

"You're okay. You got out, you're home," he tells her, his voice thick with sleep.

Her eyes bounce around the dark bedroom, her chest too tight and her face damp with tears. She expects Kai to slither out from the shadows and attack, but when seconds and minutes pass, she starts to calm down.

Damon pulls her against him, her head falling to his chest. He rubs her shoulder and breathes steadily. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sometimes she can't. The words get tangled and stick to the back of her throat. Tonight, she can. The darkness acts as a cover, a shield for her to hide from the honesty of her words. She stares out the window at nothing in particular as she tells him what she dreamed, how alone she felt, that some part of her just can't accept that Kai is really dead and the threat he posed is gone.

Damon can't fix her head. Can't make her trauma go away. But, he holds her and kisses her forehead and promises he'll be there the next time she wakes up, too.

She's slow to fall back asleep after that, the fear a little too heavy, but his fingers move up and down her back, brushing against the nape of her neck. It's a soothing motion and the repetition lulls her enough that she drifts away. The next time she wakes up, it's morning.

He's awake, but he's still there.

He kept his promise.

She doesn't know how to tell him how much it means to her.

.

.

.

By Day 8, she's decided she can't hide forever. She needs to integrate back into the world and face her fears. The first step is leaving the boarding house. The second is being around someone that isn't Damon. She doesn't want him to be her crutch, which he's fast becoming. Not just for him, but because she needs her independence. Relying on someone else for safety is no way to live.

"You're sure about this?" Damon frowns, sitting next to her in the car, gaze darting around. Downtown Mystic Falls is crowded. It's a Saturday morning, meaning much of the town is taking the time to get their errands done. It's all very normal and bizarre at the same time. There was a time when none of this made her uncomfortable. She wouldn't even blink at a crowded sidewalk. Not so long ago, she'd been desperate to be around people. Now that she is, she wishes there was more of a balance. A little less noise, fewer people, not so much pressure to fit back in. But, as much as little alarms are going off inside her, telling her to turn back, she knows she can't, and won't, do that. She needs to do this.

"I'm sure." The rebuilt Mystic Grill is both familiar and unfamiliar to her. It's her first stop on her 'welcome home' tour. She's only expecting to see Matt, her least over-the-top friend, so she's expecting a simple, low key reunion, which she can handle. She _thinks_...

Still, Damon looks unsure. "You wanna leave, just gimme the signal."

"We have a signal?"

"Yeah, it's your 'get me out of here' face." He mimics it for her, but mostly it's just dramatically wide eyes.

"Subtle," she mutters.

He grins and pushes his way out of the car.

Bonnie follows suit, rubbing her sweaty palms over the thick fabric of her coat. The cacophony of downtown used to be normal to her; voices clamoring over each other, cars speeding past, the shrill ring of a bell over an opening door. It feels abrasive. She hurries around the car and joins Damon on the other side. His hand falls to the small of her back as they move toward the door leading into the Grill. He pulls it open and ushers her inside.

It looks much like it had before, but updated. The furniture is new and the lighting looks better than the old lamps, which were always a little too dark for a place that had so much wood paneling. This seems brighter, fresher, and more inviting. Still, there are a lot of people inside, crowding around the pool tables on one side and filling up the restaurant half on the other.

"We could just send Boy Wonder a text," Damon says. "'Back from the dead, send gifts and money' – Bon-Bon."

She rolls her eyes. "A) You're the only one who calls me that, and B) no. This is Matt. He's one of my closest friends."

"A phone call then. Or you could Face Time. That's a thing, right?"

"Honestly, you seem more nervous about this than I do..." She squints at him curiously. "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just liked it back at the boarding house, where there weren't so many interlopers." His mouth screws up as he looks around the room with distaste. "Besides, my bourbon is better."

Bonnie snorts. She's about to reply, just to rankle him more, but then she hears her name. Turning, she searches out the source of the voice and, while she's expecting to see Matt staring back at her, she isn't expecting to see Caroline and Elena, both of whom are sitting at a table together, staring at her in slack-jawed shock.

Damon winces. " _See_. If we'd texted, we could've prepared for this."

"And done what?" Bonnie wonders faintly.

"Not come."

She glances at him, but he just shrugs, unrepentant. She doesn't have time to say much more before Matt's in front of her, hands outstretched but not quite touching her.

She looks up at him, her heart swelling when she sees the tears in his eyes. Smiling, she nods at him. "I'm real."

He lets out a thick laugh before he pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tight and burying his face against her shoulder. "Didn't think I'd see you again, Bon."

Bonnie hugs him back, reveling in the familiarity, and lets her eyes fall closed. "Me either."

He sways her side to side for a few seconds, never letting up, but then Caroline is there, yanking him off. "You can't _hog_ her!" She wraps herself around Bonnie even more tightly than Matt did and Bonnie chokes a bit, her breath knocked out of her.

"Hey, watch your grip. Just got her back, we don't need you sending her off early," Damon complains.

Bonnie smiles, but rubs her hands over Caroline's back. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"How?" Caroline leans back and strokes her fingers over Bonnie's hair. "We thought... I mean, Damon said..." She glances to her right and frowns at him. "You said Kai killed her."

"I said _Kai_ said he killed her," he corrects.

Rolling her eyes, she says, "Same difference."

"No, because _you_ were trusting the word of a psychopath. _I_ was trusting that she'd pull a _Bonnie_. And oh, look, she did."

Caroline clucks her tongue at him but returns her attention to Bonnie. "However it happened, I'm just glad you're home." She cups Bonnie's cheeks. "I _missed_ you."

Bonnie feels her throat tighten and her eyes burn. "I missed you, too."

"Hey, I want a hug, too," Elena adds, knocking her elbow against Caroline's arm lightly.

Caroline reluctantly lets Bonnie go and steps aside.

Elena smiles as she reaches for Bonnie, pulling her into a hug that's much looser and gentler than the two previous. "Hasn't been the same without you," Elena says against her ear.

"Yeah. I bet I have a lot to catch up on." Bonnie hugs her back, but her heart is pounding a little too fast and she can't quite look at Elena without feeling guilt swim in her chest and gnaw at her gut.

"Speaking of..." Caroline bounces a little, her hands clasped together. "We need to have a girls' night. Like, _immediately_. Also, we need to go to the salon, and maybe shopping."

"Caroline," Elena tempers.

"What?" she squeaks and reaches for Bonnie, stroking her hair again. "I'm just looking out for her. She's been over there for _months_. She deserves a little pampering."

Bonnie smiles then and turns her head toward Damon. There were a few times she talked him into doing facial masks with her in the prison world. He'd lay out on a yard chair and soak in the sun with her, cream spread all over his face and cucumbers on his eyes.

Seeming to remember it too, he winked at her, mouth turned up at the corners.

"I'd like that," she tells Caroline. "We should set something up. I don't know what your school schedules are like..."

"We'll make it work." Caroline waves dismissively. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Uh..." She was only planning on seeing Matt. After that, she and Damon were going to head back to the boarding house, have dinner, and read. Or watch a movie. Or both. There was a part of her that very much still wanted to do that. Another part of her told her she should spend time with her friends. That they'd missed her and she'd missed them. She just wasn't sure how she felt about being around them for long stretches. Not yet. Not when her anxiety is still so strong.

"Please?" Caroline's face is bright with hope. "We can do it at our dorm room. It'll be great, I promise."

Bonnie chews her lip before nodding. "Yeah, sure. That'll be nice."

" _Yay!_ Okay, I'm going to go pick up some stuff for tonight." She starts backing up, giddy to get started. "Be at the dorm at six, sharp. We'll make a whole night of it. And tomorrow, we can stop by a salon."

Bonnie smiles slowly. "Okay."

"I have to head out, too," Elena says. "I'm meeting Liam. But, I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah. I'll be there."

As Caroline and Elena head toward the door, Bonnie looks back at Matt, who's grinning at her. "It's good to have you back. Seriously."

"It's good to be back."

He gives her another hug before a customer starts calling for attention, and then it's just her and Damon again.

"So...? How do we feel about hanging out with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum tonight?"

She rolls her eyes, but she isn't particularly offended. This is his unsubtle way of checking in on her. "Good. It'll be fine." She nods. "They're my best friends."

"Sure, but so am I." He wraps an arm around her shoulders and directs her toward the door. Bonnie breaths a sigh of relief, happy to be on her way home already. "If you had to rank us, where do I stand...? First or second?"

Bonnie shakes her head and smothers a smile. "I'm not answering that."

"There's no way I'm third... I buried a body for you. I have to at _least_ make second..." He eyes her. "Is it because Caroline can probably hear you and you don't want to hurt her feelings? Hey, I get it. She's fragile and she's been through a lot."

Snorting, Bonnie shoves at his side. "You're ridiculous."

He grins. "Thank you."

.

.

.

"You don't have to do this." Damon's car idles against the curb. It's not a long walk from where she is to the dorm rooms, but the campus is full and Bonnie can already feel her heart pounding a little too quick. "We can just go home, watch The Bodyguard again, I'll make pasta..."

This is the first night since she's come back that she won't be sharing his bed. They haven't done anything beyond holding each other. He doesn't reach for her and she doesn't reach for him, not like they did before. It's different. Usually, if they're in a bed, they don't sleep until they've exhausted each other. But, she likes it. She likes the sex, too. More than likes. She even misses it sometimes. But, if this is their new normal, she's going to enjoy it for as long as she has it. Until Elena gets her memory back and Damon starts spending most of his time with her.

With that in mind, she decides that this can be like a trial run. A way to show herself that she can do this, she can be back here, without him. She can survive without Damon there to hold her hand. Another part wants her to fail. Wants her to keep leaning on him and _needing_ him. But, those were the same things she worried about in Elena. That dependence on another person never seemed healthy, and Bonnie doesn't want to do that. She doesn't want whatever she and Damon have to be built on the idea that they can't be without each other.

"I need to," she finally tells him, and shifts in her seat to see him. "You should call Stefan, talk to him, make a night of it... I'm sure he misses you."

He hums and drags his fingers over the top of the steering wheel. "If you want to come home..."

"You're only a phone call away, I know." She unclips her seat belt and pushes the car door, and then she hesitates. Turning back, she leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I'll be okay."

He raises his eyes to meet hers and searches her face. "I can pick you up first thing tomorrow."

"Caroline texted me. She's already got a hair appointment booked for 11 tomorrow morning." She can't hide a smile. Caroline is, well, _Caroline_. She appreciates it, though. Because she does need to do something about her hair. There was only so much care she could give it in the prison world and she kind of wants a new look anyway. "I'll be back after."

"Text me. Let me know everything's going okay."

"I will." She's still leaned close to him. Too close for friends. She's not sure why, or what she expects. Maybe that he'll cross that distance and kiss her. Give her some sign that what happened before, what happened _there_ can happen here, too. Does she want that, though? They said their goodbye that last night together. Now, they're friends. Best friends. Just trying to make sense of the world they're back in. She can be happy with these boundaries. For now, at least. Maybe when Elena remembers Bonnie will have to re-evaluate where she sits on things. It wasn't so long ago that all she wanted to do was run, far away from him and her and _them_.

"You stay out here much longer and Barbie's gonna send out a search team," Damon says. His hand squeezes the steering wheel. "Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." Bonnie draws back. She grabs her bag from the floor and steps out of the car, letting the door close behind her. Her stomach twists and turns as a few people glance in her direction, but she keeps her chin up and starts walking. She refuses to run or hide, even when panic and fear swirl inside her. She just keeps walking until she reaches the dorm building and is climbing the stairs to her floor.

As soon as she walks into her old room, everything melts away. Caroline's hung a 'welcome back' banner. She's got balloons and a fuzzy purple tiara and _alcohol_. With a beaming smile, she steps forward, drops the tiara on Bonnie's head, and hands her a shot. "Welcome home," she says.

And Bonnie smiles.

Maybe she can do this after all.

.

.

.

It's after midnight, Bonnie is more than a little toasted, and Elena has slunk out in search of her boyfriend.

"Ugh, is it wrong that her happiness grosses me out?" Caroline is sitting on her bed, cross legged, her own pink tiara a little crooked, and a bottle of vodka in hand. "Her and Liam are _doctors_ and cute together and they're going to be _that_ couple. That everybody hates to like, because they're like, hashtag-relationship-goals or something." She hiccups. "Anyway, he's not even that cute, right? I mean, I don't want to judge, but does he kind of remind you of _Tyler?_ That's weird, right? Don't get me wrong, _Tyler_ was cute. But, Liam looks like a second-rate version of him."

Bonnie shrugs. She's sprawled out on her old bed, legs stretched out to the end, a cup of _something_ in her hand. She's not sure. Caroline was in a mixing mood and just handed it to her. It's fruity and sweet and _really_ good. "Haven't met him."

"Oh. Right. _Duh_." Caroline's face scrunches up. "I'm terrible. I can't believe I forgot that you were..."

"Trapped in a prison world, so I didn't get to meet Elena's new boyfriend? It's okay, really." She stares down at her cup. "No offense to him, but he's probably not going to last. I mean, eventually, Elena's going to get her memories back. No way she can stand _not_ knowing. So, she'll ask me or Ric or someone and then— _Bam_." She slapped her hands together, jostling her drink and spilling some of it onto her lap. "Damon and Elena, k-i-l-l-i-n-g."

Caroline starts giggling. "You mean 's.' K-i-s-s-i-n-g."

Bonnie blinks at her. "What'd I say?"

"L. Like, _killing_."

"Oh." She thinks it over a second and then frowns. "Same difference."

Caroline giggle-snorts and then nods. She pulls herself off her bed and crosses the room on wobbly legs until she's crammed into the single bed, hip to hip with Bonnie. "It _is_ though. They're so bad for each other. But, it always happens. They split up over something big and dramatic and then they just... get over it or ignore it or _whatever,_ and they run right back to each other." Her brow knits. "What is that?"

"Co-dependence," Bonnie says, before taking another swig of her drink.

"Mm, yeah." Caroline nods, her eyes wide. "I took psychology, I should know that."

"Well, you are a little drunk." Bonnie points to the half-empty bottle of vodka she's holding, and then frowns. "Hey, I'm sorry about your mom... Damon told me. I'm sorry I couldn't be here."

"Yeah." Tears spring to Caroline's eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you back."

"Care..."

"No, _listen_." Caroline turns at the waist to see her better. "I tried, I really did. I looked _everywhere_ for a way to bring you home. But then, like two months into the search, Stefan gave up. And I was trying to get rid of the magical ban around Mystic Falls at the same time. And then mom got sick and Elena was on hallucinogenic drugs. It was just, it was awful and intense, but that's no excuse. You deserved so much more, Bonnie. We should've tried harder. We should've brought you home."

Bonnie stares at her a long moment and then sighs. "I'm not gonna lie, I wish you did. I kept waiting, hoping you might show up. For a long time, I thought you'd find a way. And then, eventually, I stopped hoping."

"Bonnie..."

"I told Damon to have faith and hope and trust that you would come, but... It was hard. It was so quiet there, every day. All we had was each other. And he was so... _Damon_. Annoying and aggravating and doing everything he could just to get a reaction. But, then it changed. I kept talking, sometimes just to fill the silence, and I didn't think he was listening. I thought he was there because he didn't want to be alone. And maybe that was part of it, but it was more than that. Sometimes we'd talk for hours... about everything and nothing. We'd play board games and read books and cook together and it made it hurt less. I wasn't so lonely when he was there. I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't been there."

Caroline reaches out and takes Bonnie's hand, folding their fingers together. "You know how I feel about Damon. He's pretty high on the list of people I could happily watch die in a violent fire. But... I'm glad. I'm glad you had him and that he helped you get through it. Maybe a little of that is because I feel guilty, which is sucky and selfish, but a lot of it is because I care about you and I just want you to be okay."

"I know." Bonnie leans over, dropping her head atop Caroline's shoulder. "I really missed you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When you got back... Kai was what you thought of first? Getting back at him for everything?"

"No." She shakes her head a little and sighs. "No, I just wanted to get out. I don't know where. Just, _away_. But then, I felt responsible. So, I went after Kai. I thought if I could just get rid of him, then it'd be okay. I could leave then, you know?"

"You weren't going to tell us, were you? That you were back?"

Bonnie's eyes burned. "No," she whispers.

It was silent for a moment, and tense. Bonnie doesn't want to look up, doesn't want to see the hurt and anger in Caroline's eyes. So, she doesn't.

"I don't blame you," Caroline says. "When we saw you at the Grill today, you were surprised. You were only there to see Matt."

"I was pacing myself. I wasn't ready for everyone. Or I didn't think I was."

"You were scared of us."

"It's not just you. It's... _everything_." Her shoulders slump. "It's loud here, and crowded, and I spent so long surrounded by _nothing_."

"Nothing but Damon." Caroline pauses. "When you were there, just the two of you, did you..." She trails off. "I don't know why I'm asking. I mean, you and him, it doesn't make sense, right? Until recently, you hated his guts. But, when he came back, it was just him and he was so..."

Bonnie doesn't move. She's not even sure she's breathing. She just waits to hear what Caroline has to say.

"He was a mess. He hunted Kai down and it was just _brutal_. He kept him in that cellar for two months, torturing him off and on, only giving him enough water to survive. And when he didn't get the answers he wanted, he'd lose it. It was... _intense_. Even for Damon."

"He never liked Kai. He knew as soon as he saw him that there was something wrong with him. And he was right. He killed his family, Caroline. He was a psychopath."

"And I get that, I do," she agrees quickly. "But, that's not why Damon was doing it. He wanted a way back to the prison world. He wanted to get you out. And nothing we found could help him with that. So, he found a different way..."

" _Kai_."

"I wasn't there for a lot of it. I... I flipped my switch, so I was keeping my distance from everyone. But Stefan, he said that Damon was... _unhinged_. That there were moments where he was like his old self. The things he did, the ways that he hurt Kai, it was... I don't know. I know he deserved it after what he did to you, but I think about it. About what Damon did and what motivated him to that point, and then I think about how he was today, how he looked at you. And it's like a completely different person. Someone I don't even think I've met before. Just this... this side of him that's soft or gentle or _something_. With Elena, it was different, it was passion and want and need. It was... _consuming_ and desperate and... weird. But, the way he looked at you, it was like his whole world was back on its axis."

Bonnie's heart thumped wildly in her chest. Caroline's words on a loop in her head. A full minute passes before she asks, "What are you asking me?"

Caroline doesn't answer right away. She just holds Bonnie's hand and gathers her thoughts. Eventually, she wonders, "Are you in love with him?"

It's not the question she expects. She expects— _did you fuck him? are you still fucking him? how are you going to tell Elena? (yes, no, I don't know)_

But that... That she can't answer. Or maybe it's that she shouldn't.

Her and Damon are complicated. They always have been. They're up and down, enemies to frenemies to friends to lovers to... whatever they are now. Friends again? But love, that's never factored into this. It wasn't allowed to. They've wanted each other, needed each other, and _had_ each other. In between that, they've shared with each other. Their pasts and their present and their dreams of a future. They've dug into the depths of their own thoughts in the darkest rooms, admitting things about themselves that they've never said aloud. She's bared her soul to Damon more times than she's bared her body, and he's done the same with her. Not just in the prison world, but here. On the battlefield that Mystic Falls has always been. They've faced off against any number of enemies. Teamed up against the worst of the worst. They've faced oblivion together, hand in hand. They have lived and died together and sometimes, she thinks they will again. That whatever life has to offer them, wherever it takes them, they'll always wind up back together. That when it all ends, when she's old and gray and breathing her last breath, her hand will still be tucked in Damon's as she greets whatever is on the other side.

Before she can think it through, before she can weigh the pros and cons of admitting something so detrimental to her life and her friendships, she says, "I am."

She's in love with him. In love with the best and worst of him. The dark and the light. The wrong and the right. The whole and the empty. She loves the parts of him that he doesn't think are loveable. That others might see and run from. She's seen it. Seen what he can do and who he is and what lengths he will go to. And yes, there are moments that she's scared, less _of_ him and more _for_ him. Moments where she sees him teeter on the edge of humanity, dipping into that pool marked 'monster.' But, she also knows that her toes have dipped into that same pool. She's submerged herself there on her worst days, when those she wanted to trust spun her mind with manipulations. She's let herself cross over into the darkness and she had to drag herself back. So, she can relate, in some way, to the shadows that crowd his soul and threaten to swamp him. They're familiar to her, too.

"Oh, Bonnie..." Caroline gathers her up in her arms and hugs her.

Bonnie doesn't mean to cry. Love isn't supposed to end in crying. And yet, that's exactly what happens. She cries for what is and was and will never be. Because loving someone doesn't make them yours. And that, that's a reality she never wanted to face.

.

.

.

The next day, Caroline and Bonnie drag their hungover selves out of bed. While Caroline has a quick fix via the B-positive she keeps in the mini-fridge, Bonnie must rely on Tylenol and very strong coffee. They drive into town to meet Elena for brunch before their salon appointments, and the drive helps. By the time they reach the restaurant, Bonnie doesn't feel like roadkill, though she's still somewhat regretting that she admitted her feelings for Damon in a drunken moment of honesty she can't take back.

"Sorry. I'm the worst." Elena drops at the table and shrugs her coat off. "I didn't plan on leaving last night. It was _totally_ last minute and I will definitely make it up to you."

"It's fine." Bonnie hugs her coffee close to her chest to absorb some of its heat. "I'm just glad you could make it."

"Yes, and sorry I'm late." She looks around briefly. "Where's Caroline?"

"Bathroom. But, I'm pretty sure she's just texting Stefan. I guess he's still a little worried about the switch flipping thing."

"Yeah. She had a rough time. It's not easy losing a parent." Elena sighs and leans back in her seat. "Honestly, it's only been a few months but it feels like years. Just, so much has happened lately."

"Caroline caught me up on a lot of it." Bonnie hesitates for a moment. This is a door she shouldn't open and she knows that. Leaving it closed can only benefit her short term. In the long-term, it may have bigger consequences, though. Like, if she doesn't say anything now and she gets comfortable in her bubble, and then everything blows up, it'll hurt more, won't it? So, maybe it's better to pop the bubble now and try to salvage some part of herself. "I don't know how to broach this, so I'm just going to jump in... You had Alaric erase your memory. Specifically, of your past with Damon..."

Elena goes still for a moment, but then relaxes. "Yeah, that's what they tell me..." She smiles briefly, but it's forced and awkward. "It's weird when anyone brings it up, because how I think of him, how I see him, it just doesn't fit with what everyone says." Turning in her seat, she stares at Bonnie. "Actually, I'm glad you brought it up because I really wanted to talk to you about it."

"Me?"

"Of _course_. Bonnie, you're my best friend. You know me better than anyone."

"Okay." Bonnie stares at her searchingly. "Are you asking me if it was the right thing to do? Because I wasn't here. I don't know how you were feeling when all of this happened. I mean, I know what Caroline's told me, about the hallucinogenic drugs and I know that you decided this was the only way for you to cope... I know that, as a vampire, your feelings are magnified and that grief feels a thousand times more devastating for you than it would for the average human. And I know that it was four months and everyone gave up looking after one, maybe two months..." She doesn't mean to sound bitter, but she knows she does.

Elena looks surprised. "I never wanted to. I wanted to bring you back, I just..." She frowns and turns her gaze away. "I guess I didn't think there was a way. I mean, you're the person I go to for things like this. Without a witch, how were we supposed to change things."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the only witch in the world." Bonnie musters a smile. "Look, I get it. Caroline's already explained that you were pretty screwed up. And then things started piling up and we got pushed to the way-side."

"I know I grieved for you." Elena's brow furrowed. "And we tried a few times, but every time it didn't work, I just lost hope."

"Yeah." Bonnie's mouth turns down. "I know a little something about that."

Sighing, Elena shakes her head. "I'm sorry. If I'd known a way to bring you back..."

Bonnie doesn't want to be angry at her. She knows that Elena was struggling and suffering. She was a mess after Damon died and her grief consumed her. She gets that. What she doesn't get is why her grief was so unmotivated. For Bonnie, when it hurts, she looks for answers. She scours every book in every language for some way to fix things. For others, for herself, for whoever asks it of her. She pushes herself beyond her limits to make things right. Loss is a cross to bear, for sure, but Bonnie has carried many over the years and she's never dropped them. She always fights. For Elena, it would seem that, without her resident witch to fix things, she just gave up, and in doing so, eventually took the easier route out.

"Do you regret it?" she wonders.

Elena stares at her, not sure what she means.

"Erasing them. Not remembering what happened between you two."

"Oh." Elena's gaze fell to the table. Reaching up, she tucks her hair back behind her ear. "Sometimes I get curious. I've heard stories from Caroline and Ric, even Matt... I guess I wonder who I'd be, or who I became, that I couldn't survive without him. And a part of me wonders if maybe it's a good thing I don't remember. If maybe the person I was when I was with him isn't someone I should be..."

"And the other part?"

She half-smiles. "The other part wonders what it would be like to be loved so completely that living without a person seems impossible... I thought I knew what that felt like with Stefan. There was a time when I couldn't imagine my life without him, but... I don't know. I still love him. I probably always will. But, the me that I am now doesn't fit with him. I see the way he looks at Caroline and how she looks at him and I just think how funny it is that it ended up like this. It started off so differently and I had so many ideas about where it would go. And now I'm a vampire and a med student and I'm dating this great guy, but..."

"But, it's not the same."

"It was _intense_ with Stefan." Her brow furrows. "It was dramatic and dangerous and passionate. And when you feel like that, when every day you just feel lucky to have that person with you, you grow to crave it. That intensity and want. I liked how it felt. I liked knowing that this person would do anything for me, that they would risk everything because they cared about me. But, Stefan also had a side to him that I just couldn't connect to, that I wanted to love but I don't think he ever let me."

"The Ripper."

Elena crosses her arms loose over her chest and lets out a quiet sigh. "He lets Caroline in, you know? He tells her about that side of himself, trusts her to talk him down. He could never do that with me. I was too... Not weak, but precious maybe. Like, he thought he'd infect me with it or something. But, with Caroline he seems to think it's okay, that he can share that burden with her. It used to bug me a little. Maybe more now that I'm looking back on it. That there was a part of him I didn't have... I don't know."

"Do you think you had that with Damon?"

"That's just it, I don't know _what_ I had with Damon. Every story I hear is about how desperate our love was for each other. Like the only way we could be together was to consume each other. And I'll admit, there's a part of that I like." She raises her eyes to meet Bonnie's as she asks, "Have you ever just wanted to be _wanted?_ It doesn't even matter who it is, you just need someone to _want_ you. To want to help you and love you and take care of you. That's how I feel. And I know it's selfish. I know it's not healthy for it not to be balanced or for a relationship to be so consuming that nothing and no one else matters. But, I don't know. It's who I am, I guess."

Bonnie hums, but shakes her head. "What about Liam?"

"Liam is fun and smart and I like spending time with him. He makes me feel good. I'm not hearing wedding bells every time we see each other, but it works, for now."

"What about later? You're a vampire, he's human..."

"I don't know." She shrugs. "Maybe we don't last longer than next week or maybe I tell him the truth and he turns. I really don't know. I'm just having fun right now. Everything's been so serious and intense these last few months, I kind of like that it's not like that with him. He's just a regular guy."

"So, you don't plan on getting your memories back then?" Bonnie's brow furrows.

"You're surprised?"

"I guess I expected you to hate the mystery. And, it's like you said. You like to be wanted and nobody's ever wanted you as much as Damon has."

Elena's lip purse as she thinks it over. "Do _you_ think I should?"

"Get your memories back?"

"Yeah."

"I—" Bonnie's phone buzzes and her attention falls to where Damon's 'crazy-eyes' are flashing on the screen. "Speak of the devil." She plucks her phone up. "Were your ears burning?"

"You were talking about me? Only things I'm sure."

"Something like that." Bonnie rolls her eyes. "I texted you this morning. I'm going for brunch and then a hair appointment. I won't be home for a while."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. _I,_ your ever humble best friend, am picking up something for dinner. I was thinking we could have chicken parm. I found a recipe book in the library. You'll love it."

"Sounds great."

" _Plus_ , I was thinking we could watch a movie. I know we're both Whitney'd out, but I wanted to see if you had any recommendations. Stefan didn't pay the cable bill, so I have to visit an actual video store. I didn't know those even existed anymore."

Bonnie snorts. "Just the one. It's over by The Market. Is that where you're shopping?"

"Of course, Bon-Bon. Only the best organic food for my bestie..."

She smothers a smile. "You should get something for dessert, too. Something chocolatey."

"Chocolate mousse to satisfy your sweet tooth, got it. Anything else?"

"We're out of bread. And I don't know what the cinnamon situation is, but—"

"But, you've been eating a lot of cinnamon toast, yeah, I noticed. I'll pick some up of both."

She nods. "That should be it."

"Okay. I need to see a man about some fresh chicken. Enjoy your mimosas, I'll see you tonight. And hey, text me when you're on your way home."

Clucking her tongue, she shakes her head. "You're a worrywart, you know that?"

"That's blasphemy," he says, "and I won't have it."

Bonnie huffs a laugh. "I'll text you. Promise."

"That's all I ask."

Hanging up, Bonnie smiles down at her phone before she drops it back to the table. When she looks up, Elena is staring at her peculiarly, but she doesn't get a chance to question it before Caroline is back at the table.

"Sorry, sorry. I took forever, I know." She looks up and spots Elena. "Oh, you made it."

"I was late and I'm sorry." Elena smiles knowingly. "So, brunch? I'm starving."

"Me, too," Bonnie agrees, reaching for a menu.

"I already know what I want," Caroline says before she flags down a waitress and orders them a round of mimosas.

Bonnie has to lift her menu to hide the grin blooming on her lips.

.

.

.

Bonnie's never more glad for Caroline's insistence on going to the salon until she leaves and realizes just how cathartic it is to have her hair back to a nice manageable style. It's a little longer, reaching an inch past her shoulders, falling in gentle waves. She feels rejuvenated in a way, like she's sloughed off the cocoon of before and emerged a curious and somewhat hopeful butterfly, eager to see what the world has to offer her now.

Caroline has to skip out almost as soon as the salon appointment is over, but she's sure to hug Bonnie tightly, rocking her side to side and saying, "We _have_ to do this again soon, okay? Seriously, I want us to spend more time together."

Bonnie nods. "Yeah, I do, too."

With one last squeeze, Caroline lets go and waves at them before she rushes off to her car.

"And then there were two." Elena smiles at her as they step out onto the sidewalk in front of the salon. "Do you have some time before you head back to the boarding house?"

She checks her phone to see how late it is and nods. "Yeah, I've got a little while, what's up?"

Elena shrugs and draws the sleeves of her shirt down over her hands. "Since when do you live at the boarding house? I thought for sure that you'd want to move back into the dorm, get back to school."

Bonnie frowns. "It's familiar right now. I'm sure I'll start school again eventually. But, after the prison world, it's taking a little while to get used to everything. There's a lot of people and noise and it's just... overwhelming sometimes."

"Are you okay right now?" Elena wonders, looking around curiously.

"I'm... not panicking." The streets aren't as crowded as they were yesterday, and it was nothing compared to the campus. "I'm just getting my feet under me right now, and I spent a lot of time at the boarding house, so it doesn't feel as strange."

"Yeah, but, it's just you and Damon out there. Doesn't that bother you?"

She shakes her head slowly. "Not really. It did in the beginning, when we were still stuck over there. But, that was when the rest of the world stopped existing, you know? Now, I know that it's out there and I can pick and choose when I want to be a part of it."

"It's just... You used to hate him." Elena shrugs. "Like, president of the anti-Damon club. And now he's calling you to ask what you want for dinner and what movie you should watch tonight."

Bonnie frowns and arches an eyebrow at her. "You were listening in on my phone call?"

"Not intentionally. My hearing is just really sensitive... All I'm trying to say is that you guys are getting kind of... _cozy_."

"And that's a problem for you?"

"I _thought_ it'd be a problem for you."

" _Why?_ " She comes to a stop and turns to face Elena, confused and a little annoyed. "The Damon you're thinking of, that was in the beginning. I'm not saying he's a perfect angel, far from it, but we've come a long way. And after spending four months alone, you get to know a person pretty well... Elena, Damon is one of my best friends. He matters to me, a _lot_."

Elena stares at her, searching her face and her eyes for something. "You really care about him... I mean, you think he's a good person."

"I think he's complicated. He doesn't always make the right choices and he can be selfish and stubborn and even stupid. But, he's also loyal and caring and he'd do just about anything for someone he loves."

Biting down on her lip, Elena nods. "Okay. You've convinced me."

"I... What?"

"You're right. I don't like not knowing about my past. I don't like the idea that I knew a side of him that I don't know. I don't like that I feel like I'm the odd one out when I say Damon's a monster. I want to remember. I want to know the guy you're talking about."

Bonnie's heart lurches in her chest. "Oh."

Elena seems unaware of the sudden weight that's fallen on her friend. Instead, she looks excited. "I feel good about this, I really do." She reaches out then and squeezes Bonnie's arm. "I'm so glad you're back. I don't know if I would've figured this out without you."

Bonnie's mouth twists. "Glad I could help," she mutters.

But, Elena's mind is elsewhere. "I need to call Ric, set up a day for us to meet and, well, figure all of this out." She starts walking backwards then. "But, Caroline was right. We need to hang out more, all three of us." She smiles. "I'll call you later."

Bonnie watches as Elena turns on her heel and strides away, looking light and excited and full of hope.

Meanwhile, Bonnie feels her heart shatter, all the pieces collecting in her stomach like jagged glass ready to tear and puncture everything around it.

With a sigh, she tips her head back and stares at the blue sky above. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" she wonders aloud.

There's no answer.

* * *

 **.tbc.**

* * *

 **author's note** : _i know a few people were hoping for damon's pov, but this is all written from bonnie's perspective. we do get insight into damon through what she sees, how he acts, and caroline's insight to how damon dealt with the loss of bonnie. also, he explains his understanding of things in the next chapter. i'm considering writing an epilogue that could be done from his perspective, though. we'll see. :)_

 _in season 6 canon, i will say that i liked that they actually explored bonnie's ptsd for a while. i mean, it made sense that she'd struggle after being alone for so long. i wanted to take the time to acknowledge she'd still go through that while also looking at how she might rely too heavily on the comfort damon provides and that she's self-aware enough to try and avoid that. he is a stable support for her, but she doesn't want to depend on him to the degree elena has._

 _speaking of elena, i wrote her passages in a very specific way. she acknowledges that she wants to be wanted and that much of her interest in remembering damon has to do with that and the idea of a consuming love that places her as the most important person in her partner's life. this is the opposite of bonnie. bonnie is willing to let go of damon, even if it hurts, and considers leaving entirely because she thinks he does love elena and not only can't stand to watch it, but doesn't want to be a hindrance. in a lot of ways, bonnie is the antithesis of elena. she gives where elena takes. and we see here that elena doesn't start to really consider remembering damon until she realizes he's getting close to bonnie. then it's bonnie's expression of care for damon that eventually pushes elena to decide she'll remember. again, this is selfish. elena only remembers the worst things about damon, and yet she's been told that he worships her. so, the idea that he might care about someone else more spurs her into action._

 _the third piece has a confrontation, a revelation, a farewell and a hello. ;)_

 _please try to leave a review! i really appreciate any and all feedback!_

 _thanks for reading,  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


	3. love

**chapter rating** : nc-17/explicit  
 **warning(s)** : coarse language; explicit sexual situations; mentions of violence and gore  
 **word count** : 11,780

* * *

 **iii**

"Hey." Stefan taps his finger against the tabletop to catch her attention.

Bonnie blinks, lost in her head for a moment, and raises her eyes to meet his. "Hey!" She slides out of the booth she'd been sitting at, needing some time to think. After Elena left, Bonnie realized she didn't have a way home. She could have asked Damon to pick her up, but she wasn't quite ready to see him just yet. Since Matt was working and Caroline was busy, her last option was Stefan.

He smiles down at her a moment, and then reaches out, a hand tucked under her elbow, squeezing gently. "It's good to see you." His voice is quiet and gentle, and she takes comfort in it. Everyone else has been loud and aggressive in their excitement at having her back. But, Stefan is steady and calm. She needs that, especially now.

"You, too." She grabs her bag out from the booth and hooks the strap over her shoulder.

"Caroline said Elena was going to drive you back." His brow furrows. "Something happen?"

Bonnie sighs. "Not really. She just had someone she needed to talk to. I think she forgot she was my ride, actually." She shrugs. "It's fine. It happens."

He hums. "You're still staying at the boarding house?"

"Caroline told you?"

"Damon, actually. The same day you got back..." He motions for her to walk ahead of him as they leave The Grill.

She looks back at him over her shoulder. "You knew? And you didn't tell anyone?"

"He asked me not to."

 _(( Stefan frowns down at the phone in his hand, surprised to see his brother's face staring back at him. Hesitantly, he answers. "Hey..." He trails off. "I didn't think you were talking to me."_

 _"I wasn't," Damon replies, a little out of breath. "And I'm still pissed you tapped out on my 'get Bonnie back' plan."_

 _"I didn't tap out. I just questioned your methods... And I had my hands full. I told you, when things were settled and I was sure Caroline was in a good place—"_

 _"Blah, blah, blah. Long story short, you didn't want to help me torture a known sociopath. And you call yourself a hero!"_

 _"I don't think I've ever called myself that, but that's beside the point... If you're still mad, why are you calling me?"_

 _"Well, you asked me to keep you updated."_

 _"I did." He nods. "And then you told me to go fuck myself."_

 _"I was in a bad place, Stefan," he defends. "I just spent four months in a prison world. And just, FYI, coming back to all this noise? Not easy. You'd think it would be, since the quiet was_ deafening _over there. But, then you get back and all you want is for everyone to shut_ up. _Too much stimuli, a lack of support, and a lost witch will make anybody a little moody."_

 _Stefan frowns to himself, his gaze falling to the book in his lap. He lays it aside and sits forward in his seat. "You didn't tell me. About the stimuli thing. I didn't know you were having trouble coping, at least not with the noise level. The lost witch part was a little more evident."_

 _Damon blows out a heavy sigh. "You know, I forgave you for not getting me back. I like to think you and the Scooby Gang have to work around a bit of a handicap, planning wise, when you don't have me or Bon-Bon around. Besides, the way Caroline puts it, you spent a good two months trying to fix things. Kudos to you."_

 _"I hear a 'but' coming."_

 _"But, when it comes to_ Kai... _"_

 _"I've done a lot of things in my life, including torture. But, at some point, I had to wonder if you crossed a line. It's been two months. I understand that he's done things—"_

 _"Not just to me. To_ her _."_

 _"Damon, he told you she was dead... That even if he gives you a way back there, you'll only be going back for..."_

 _"A body. Go ahead, you can say it."_

 _"I'm not trying to hurt you. I know that Bonnie was important to you."_

 _"See, you keep saying that. But, when I needed your help getting information out of Kai, none of you stuck around to help. Why_ is _that?"_

 _"Caroline believes him. She thinks Bonnie's dead. She doesn't want to get her hopes up."_

 _"Even if that's true. She should've been there. Revenge is a_ shockingly _good feeling."_

 _Stefan reaches up and rubs his fingers over his wrinkled brow. "You were isolating yourself in that house. Day in and day out, the only thing you did was pressure Kai into giving you another answer. You were spiraling, Damon. We weren't going to help you do that."_

 _He hums. "Well, then, you'll be happy to know Kai's not_ _stinking up the cellar anymore."_

 _"He isn't?"_

 _"Nope. Now, he's rotting in the forest. Three different parts of it, actually. Just to make sure he didn't pull some kind of weird magical rejuvenation and knit himself back together."_

 _"He's dead." Stefan's voice is flat. "Did he give you what you wanted?"_

 _"Strangely, yes." There's a clattering noise before the sound of a trunk being closed echoes through the phone. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you're thinking. He probably could've lasted a few more days. I'd guess four, tops."_

 _Stefan shakes his head, confused._

 _"Bonnie killed him. She found her way back, tracked him down, and paid him back for what he did to her. She's curled up on the couch at the boarding house, probably still reading."_

 _"She's back?" Surprise washes over him abruptly, leaving him a little dizzy. "She's alive?"_

 _"Yup. Turns out Kai_ did _stab her, but you know Bonnie. She's a survivor." The engine of the Camaro revs to life; Stefan can hear gravel kick up under the wheels as Damon starts moving. "So, you see, keeping Kai around helped. I got out a little rage, Bonnie got her revenge, and now we have one less sociopath walking the streets._ You're welcome _."_

 _Stefan sits back against the couch. "I'm happy. Really, Damon, I am. I know how much you were struggling with the idea that she was gone..." He smiles then. "I'll tell Caroline. She'll be there, first thing."_

 _"No."_

 _He frowns. "What?"_

 _"Don't tell Caroline. Or Elena. Don't tell anyone."_

 _"Damon..." His shoulders slump and he shakes his head. "I know you're mad we didn't help you with Kai, but you can't keep Bonnie from her friends."_

 _"I'm not. When she wants to see the rest of you, she can. For now, I'm asking you to keep this to yourself. She needs some time to readjust. When she's ready, she'll find you."_

 _Stefan thinks about it for a moment, before deciding that maybe Damon's right. It's Bonnie's life, and when she wants to invite them back into it, she will. "All right. I won't tell anyone."_

 _"Even Caroline."_

 _He sighs. "Even Caroline."_

 _"Good. That's all I ask. Now, I'm gonna make a trip into town, pick up some dinner."_

 _"Damon," he says, before his brother can hang up on him._

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"I really am happy for you. And for Bonnie. She didn't deserve what happened in the prison world. She didn't deserve a lot of what's happened to her."_

 _"No," Damon agrees, "she didn't."_ ))

They're sitting in Stefan's car at this point, en route to the boarding house, and Bonnie fiddles with her fingers in her lap. "He said you were keeping your distance because he hadn't been the best company since he got back... I knew he was keeping Kai prisoner in the cellar. I just figured you disagreed with it morally."

"When he got back, Damon was... a mess. I wanted to help him, but I don't think he really wanted us there. He was grieving in his own way. He might say different, but I think he blamed himself for all of it. For coming back when you didn't... He really thought he lost you."

"You think torturing Kai was a coping mechanism?"

"I think it gave him a way to hold on to hope. Not the best way, mind you. But, it made him feel like there was still an option. Like, eventually, Kai would crack and reveal that you were alive and there was a way to bring you home."

Bonnie hums and stares out the window, her brow furrowed. "A few years ago, I would've said that was barbaric. Keeping someone prisoner for two months, clinging to life. But now, mostly I just feel... _grateful_."

"I don't know exactly what Kai did to you, and I won't ask you to share that with me. But, I'm sorry. That we didn't find a way to bring you back sooner. That we prioritized other things and other people."

She nods. "There was a lot going on."

"That doesn't mean your pain or your experience is any less important."

Bonnie turns to him, her lips pressed flat. "I'm working through it. It'll take time, but I'm getting there." She searches his face before saying, "I hope you know there's no ban on the boarding house. It's your home, Stefan. I'd never ask you to stay away. Damon was just being overprotective."

"I wanted to respect your space. But, I do kind of miss being there. I even miss Damon sometimes." He smiles faintly. "If it ever gets overwhelming, though, let me know."

She shakes her head. "I doubt I'll be living there much longer."

He looks surprised. "No?"

"No. I... I might take a trip. I don't know where to yet, but... Yeah, I think it'll be good. Put some space between me and here... See what the world has to offer me."

"That might be a good idea. These last few years have been rough. And you're usually the one fixing them. You deserve a break." He pulls the car into the driveway of the boarding house and cuts the engine.

Just as they're about to climb out, however, he reaches over and drops a hand atop hers. "For the record, if you ever need to talk or get away, I'm here."

She nods. "I know. Thanks, Stefan."

He smiles.

Bonnie grabs her bag up off the floor of the car before she steps out, and hooks it over her shoulder.

"I forgot to ask. Did you two hang out last night?" she wonders, as they walk toward the front door.

"We did." He nods. "It was good. He's doing a lot better than he was when he got back."

"Yeah?"

He pulls the door open and waves her to walk ahead of him. "He was a lot more edgy before. Short tempered, too."

They make their way down the hallway to the source of the music.

Damon is in his glory. The kitchen is in disarray, but he's dancing and grinning and his eyes are bright and blue and full of joy.

Briefly, Bonnie wonders if he's heard the good news. Elena is planning to take him back. Or, at least remember him. Which, basically the same thing. Not for the first time, she regrets bringing the situation up to Elena at all. It wasn't her intention to encourage Elena to get her memories back. Not exactly. Mostly, she'd just been wondering what Elena's stance on it was. How long would Bonnie have until her world took a sharp turn? As it turns out, less time than she was expecting. Was it her fault? Had she talked Damon up somehow? She tries to remember everything she said, but there was so much. It's not her fault that Damon's become such an intrinsic part of her life lately.

"Hey!" Damon grins at her from behind the kitchen island. "You're just in time. The broccoli is steaming, the chicken parm is perfect, and the pasta is ready."

"Yum," she says, but it's lacking in enthusiasm.

The fire is going again and she revels in how quickly it soaks into her body. She takes a seat at the table, already dressed and waiting for her.

Stefan takes a look around the kitchen, his brows hiked. "Did you use every pot we own?"

Damon rolls his eyes. "Just the ones I needed. What're you still doing here? I thought you had a hot date with Barbie?"

Stefan rolls his eyes. "It's not a date. We're just getting dinner."

"Right. That's why you're wearing cologne and bought a new shirt and probably spent ten extra minutes on your hero hair."

Bonnie leans forward, resting her arms on the table. "I'm not sure you get to poke fun at anyone's bathroom routine."

Damon drags a towel off his shoulder to wipe his hands. "We both know I woke up like this..." He smirks. " _Flawless_."

Bonnie snorts and redirects her attention to Stefan. "That reminds me, I meant to say something earlier. It's a nice shirt, but you left the tag on the back." For a moment, she's sure that his cheeks flush, but she wonders if that's not just the lighting because, vampires can't blush, can they?

In any case, Stefan reaches back and yanks the tag off the collar, folding it up in his hand as he walks over to toss it in the garbage. "Thanks," he tells her.

"Earlier?" Damon wonders.

"Stefan picked me up. Elena's plans changed."

"You could've called me."

" _You_ were cooking."

"I didn't mind," Stefan intervened. "Besides, Bonnie and I had a chance to catch up."

"We did, and it was nice." She smiles at Stefan. "Where are you and Caroline going?"

"Uh, she was craving Italian—"

"I bet she was," Damon mutters.

"—and there's a new place that just opened up, so we thought we'd check it out." He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he shrugs. "Nothing extravagant."

"Sure, you don't want to start big or it gets harder to top with the next date." Damon was putting the finishing touches on the food and Bonnie's not even kidding when she sees him spending time on plating, gently placing dabs of tomato sauce along the outer rim of the plates. When he's done, he carries them over and places them down on the table before walking back to grab a plate of fresh French bread, sliced and already buttered.

"Speaking of extravagant..." Stefan's brows hike. "Since when are you good in the kitchen?"

"Since always."

"Except when it comes to pancakes." Bonnie waves a fork at him. "There was a trial and error period and it ended with me never wanting to eat pancakes again for the rest of my life."

Damon takes a seat across from her and grins. "You say that now. Give it a couple months and you'll be _begging_ for some vampcakes."

Bonnie rolls her eyes, but her mouth kicks up in a faint smile. "Mm-hmm..."

Stefan watches them a moment before eventually shaking his head. "I should head out, but Bonnie, it was good seeing you."

She nods. "Thanks."

"We should hang out again. Soon."

"Don't you have a date to get to?" Damon asks as he pours him and Bonnie each a glass of wine.

Stefan doesn't take it personally, merely half-smiling and shaking his head. "Have a nice dinner. I probably won't be back here tonight, so I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

"Sounds good." Bonnie nods. "Have fun!"

"Thanks." He claps a hand on Damon's shoulder before he goes.

Damon rubs his hands together as he looks at the spread in front of them. "I don't know about you, but I think this might be my best work yet."

"It looks amazing," she says, sincerely. "You whipped this all up from scratch? Seriously?"

He shrugs. "Took a while to get the recipe exactly right, but that's what extra chicken is for."

Bonnie grins. "Does that mean some mistakes were tossed in the garbage?"

"Just a few." He winks at her. "That's the price of genius."

She huffs a laugh. "And what a humble genius."

He puffs his chest out comically. "I try."

.

.

.

Bonnie blames the wine for the impromptu dancing. After dinner, which was, without a doubt, the _best_ thing he's ever made, they retire to the den. They do this often. Damon will start a fire and they'll each take a book and sit at opposite ends of the couch, her feet in his lap or vice versa. It's one of her favorite ways to wind down a day. Except, that doesn't happen tonight. Instead, before she goes looking for the book she's halfway through, he has her hand and he's pulling her over to dance with him. Damon is a fan of rock music, but that's not what's playing on the stereo now. He fiddles around with a remote until he finds the song he wants, slower than his usual picks, and then he's twirling her.

She's a little dizzy, both from the wine and the spinning, but it just makes her smile. She leans into him, chest to chest, and is reminded of their height difference. Without her shoes on, he's got six or seven inches on her, which means she has to tip her head back to see him properly. He wraps an arm around her while he takes up one of her hands, and sways them side to side. She's not sure if there's a pattern, really. If there is, he's leading and her feet are obediently following along. Otherwise, she's just letting it be as it wants to.

One song becomes three and she's a little sleepy and a lot relaxed.

"You had fun last night?"

"Mmhmm." She nods. "Elena skipped out early, but me and Caroline had a blast. We _may_ have gotten drunk, but it was okay. We talked and she apologized and we cried a little and then we hugged. It was really nice."

He hums. "And today?"

"Brunch was great and the salon appointment ran a little late, but I'm happy with it."

He eyes her hair a moment and then nods. "Looks good. It's a little longer, isn't it?"

"You noticed." Her mouth stretches in a smile.

"Course I noticed." He brings their hands in close and drags his forefinger along a wave. "You always look beautiful."

Bonnie stares up at him, her heart squeezing. "Thank you."

He stares down at her, a little more serious than he's been most of the night. "You didn't have any panic attacks or anything?"

"I got close a few times." She shrugs. "But, I got through it. I think I needed to go out and just... Remind myself that I can do it. That I'll get through it."

"You're the strongest person I know, Bonnie." He spins her around again, only this time, when he brings her in, her back is pressed to his chest, and his chin is brushing her ear. "The world's got nothing on you." His hand settles over her stomach, fingers fanned out. He's still got her hand in his but brings it down, wrapping his arm around her, just under her breasts. And she knows this feeling. She knows where this leads. She can feel every inch of his body blanketing her back and she likes it, she does. But, she can't help thinking of what Elena said. That she's going to ask Alaric to bring it all back. Which means in a day, maybe two, all of this will be gone. It's one thing to say it happened in the prison world, when they thought they had no chance of getting home. It's another for it to happen here, when she _knows_ Elena plans on remembering.

Bonnie should stop this, should navigate it back to that friendly place it's been since she returned. Where they joke and laugh and lay together each night, not crossing a boundary they've already crossed too many times to count. She should step away from him, tell him the wine's gone to her head or it's been a long day or she just wants to sleep.

She doesn't do any of that.

If their last time together was goodbye, then this feels like a hello.

Bonnie's lips part on a quiet sigh. She covers the hand atop her stomach, fingers slotting between his. He kisses from just behind her ear down the curve of her neck, and noses the shoulder of her shirt out of the way, his teeth scraping over her bra strap. "Been a while since I've seen one of these on you," he murmurs.

A laugh rocks her and her mouth kicks up.

"I vote we go back to the free and wild ways of '94. Or, we could have a bra burning." He slides their hands down to the edge of her shirt and draws it up. "I'll make a pit in the back, light 'em up."

She shakes her head, amused. "Bras are expensive."

"So, you'll save some money in the long run." His palm rubs a circle over her stomach before he slides it down, fingers tucking under the top of her jeans, dragging over the top of her underwear. "In fact, we should just burn _all_ the clothes, start our own little nudist colony."

"Yeah? Here, where you live with your _brother?_ "

He grunts. "Stefan can move out. Set up his little Barbie Dream House with Carebear." He thumbs the button of her jeans open and nips at her shoulder. "You're a witch, Bon-Bon. A little nudity is good for the soul. You can _convene_ with nature, become one with the earth."

"What am I, a wood nymph?" She snorts. "I paid good money for these clothes."

"Fine. Nude Mondays then. And Sundays. You know what, let's just make it a three-day weekend; no clothes, no cares."

"Right, that's just what I want to be, naked when the next bad guy shows up."

"The shock could give us a distinct advantage."

She laughs; it bubbles out of her and her head falls back against his chest. "That's your big plan? Three days of the week, we'll just walk around naked and if something happens, we just roll with it?"

"Not my worst plan, you've gotta admit."

"Well, you've had some doozies." She bites her lip as she smiles. "I don't know how I feel about kicking Stefan out, though."

"He's hardly here anyway. Face it, Bon-Bon. It's just you and me from here on out."

Her heart squeezes for a moment, but she just hums, and tugs on his hand, leading it deeper into her jeans. He cups her mound over her underwear and she lets out a shaky breath. "You're chatty," she tells him. "You don't usually talk this much when we..."

"When we what?" He drags his nose up her neck. " _Fuck?_ "

She purses her lips. "If you wanna be crude about it..."

"We're both adults here. Sometimes that's exactly what it is. Tension release. Stress relief..." His fingers pat against her fabric-covered pussy. "A much-needed... good... hard..." His thumb hooks in her underwear and pulls it aside before his fingers slide along her sex, already wet for him, " _fuck_."

He presses his face to her hair and she opens her legs, spreading them apart so he can touch more of her, _all_ of her. Her hips jerk as he takes his time, drawing circles with the tips of his fingers, dipping inside her before teasing away. He still has an arm banded around her, holding her against him. She's holding his wrist as his hand moves beneath her underwear.

She licks her lips and says, "Wasn't always hard."

"No, you like it soft sometimes, don't you?" He kisses her ear. "You like it when I take my time with you..."

He curls a finger inside her and she lets out a whining noise, rocking her hips forward for more.

"I missed this," he breathes. "How you smell, how good you feel, how wet you get for me... You're so eager, so responsive to every little touch... That's what you want, isn't it? Huh? Tell me what you _want_ , Bonnie."

Her eyes are at half-mast and her teeth dig into her lip.

His thumb drums against her clit and she can feel him smiling against her as her breath catches. "Tell me."

" _Please_ , Damon. I... I want..." His hand leaves her and she shakes her head, whimpering, "No..."

"Shh..." There's a burst of air against her face and then her eyes open to find they're in his bedroom, just short of the bed. He kicks the door closed behind them and then his hand is tucked in the back of her jeans, peeling them and her underwear down her legs. She raises a knee and steps out of them, bringing her closer to the bed. The other leg follows and she takes the initiative to pull her top off, tossing it away. She reaches behind her and unhooks her bra, shrugging the straps off her shoulders. Damon presses a kiss to the exact spot her bra had closed across her back, his thumbs smoothing over the indents in her skin, from the center of her back to her sides. She hugs her arms over her chest in an X, her hands cupped loose over her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders at how she's always the one that's exposed first and what that means. But, then the tips of his fingers are running from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back and he nudges her, urging her forward. Taking the hint, Bonnie bends at the waist, her hands planted on the edge of the bed.

His palms sweep down her body from shoulder to waist, where they grip her hips. She can feel each of his fingers pressed flat against her and wonders if she can memorize a fingerprint from touch alone. He kneels behind her; a burst of warm breath on her thigh makes her tremble. He licks a stripe from the back of her knee up to the curve of her ass and she bites down on her lip, dropping forward so her elbows sink into the mattress. One of his hands falls to the top of her foot, his thumb pressing against the arch, and she shifts, opening her legs wider. His fingers stroke the top of her foot and up, around the delicate bones of her ankle, before climbing the length of her leg. As soon as he reaches the curve of her ass, he stops. He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her thigh and drags them back down. The pressure makes every muscle in her body tighten. Until his thumb swipes gently over the sensitive skin at the back of her knee, and she breathes out, loosening up again.

His mouth drags over her opposite thigh, pressing sucking kisses in no discernible pattern. Every once in a while, he digs his teeth down against her, the scrape stings before his tongue follows. It would be so easy, she thinks, for him to sink a fang into her. She wouldn't even fight it. She almost wants him to. Wants to feel his teeth dig into her, her blood filling his mouth, streaking down his neck, staining his lips and his chin, _marking_ him.

She's breathing too hard; her heart is beating too fast; and her body is on edge, desperate for something he's keeping just out of reach. She can feel him smiling against her. If she didn't need him to hurry up so much, she'd find a way to wipe that smug look off his face. But right now, all she can think about is how much she wants his tongue right—

 _There_.

He traces his tongue over the seam of her pussy and her knees just about give out on her, shaking as soon as she feels that familiar pressure. The hand at her waist tightens, and she wonders if maybe her knees did give out and he's just holding her up. But, her mind is soon consumed with other things, like how good this feels. Bonnie's long lost count of how many times she's had Damon's mouth on her. In the beginning, back in the prison world, she kept a mental tally of all the things she'd need to make amends for at some point. All the times that she gave in to that want and need, telling herself it was okay, it was fine, it wasn't really cheating. The numbers all blurred together eventually, and maybe that made a statement all its own. She can't find it in herself to be ashamed of that. Even if this all blows up in her face, she can't help but feel like it was worth it. Her sexual awakening happened at the dutiful hands and keen tongue of a man that knew what he was doing and she'd rather that than spend her life thinking her previous experience was a peak. This is what she wants, and even if she has to give it up, she'll take what she learned going forward. About herself and her body and her needs.

He sinks a finger into her, moving slow and shallow at first and quicker, deeper, when she's ready. He presses wet kisses against her thigh and nips at the curve of her ass before he stands. The hand at her hip climbs her back, kneading the nape of her neck gently. When his finger leaves her pussy, she groans his name in complaint, but he only slides his hand around the front for a better angle and sinks two back inside her, his thumb brushing against her clit and making her jerk her hips forward. He refuses to pick up the pace, even when she rocks her hips, pushing down to meet his fingers, grinding forward against his thumb. His other hand slides down her back, soothing and soft, and she turns her head, wishing she could see him so he'd know she was glaring.

"Damon," she says between clenched teeth.

"I used to be the impatient one in this relationship, Bon-Bon..." Still, he sinks his hand under her, pressed flat against her stomach, and draws her up, her back meeting his front. Her head spins for a moment, her vision blurring, and then he's lifting one of her thighs until her foot plants on the edge of the bed. He slides his hand over the hill of her leg and walks his fingers down the inside of her thigh; she feels it shake and clench under his touch. His other fingers are still moving at the same speed inside of her, curling at random, brushing up against that spot inside her that makes her breath catch. He grinds his palm against her clit in a slow circle and she tips her head back against his chest. Leaving her thigh, his hand climbs her stomach, teasing around her navel before it skitters up, curving around a breast, his fingers drawing circles around her nipple. He leans his head down and kisses her neck and her shoulder, sucking hard at her skin. She can feel her stomach beginning to clench, pleasure pulsing through her in shredded ribbons, growing and climbing. She reaches down and covers his hand, feeling the tendons move each time his fingers move inside her. She's vaguely worried he'll stop and she won't tip over the edge like she wants to.

"I've got you," he says, dragging his nose from the hollow of her neck to just behind her ear.

And then his fingers are moving quicker and his palm rubs against her clit just _right_.

She's panting, tiny cries climbing up her throat, her brow furrowed and her eyes wide, staring at nothing, _seeing_ nothing. Until it hits her and her whole body feels like its simultaneously falling apart and coming together. She unravels, every limb of her body feeling independent of her, light and airy, like she's free falling and she doesn't care to stop. Her head swims and her body floats, and she is the embodiment of pleasure.

It might be seconds or minutes, she's not really sure, but eventually, she opens her eyes to find she's laying on the bed, not standing next to it, and Damon is laying next to her, head propped on one hand, the other drawing shapes on her stomach.

"Did I pass out?" she wonders, a little confused.

His mouth kicks up at the corner. "I don't think so. You were just a little preoccupied."

Stretching an arm up, she tucks it under her head. "I see you got undressed."

"See, if we just went with my nudity idea, we'd never have to waste time on that."

She raises an eyebrow. "Damon, it takes you like two seconds to get out of your clothes."

"Two seconds I could spend doing other, more interesting things." He wiggles his eyebrows and looks up at her, something light and happy in his face that makes her heart thud in her chest. Maybe it was being home, being free, knowing Kai was dead for good, or maybe it was something else. But, Damon's been happier lately. In the week since she's returned, he's smiled more, genuinely, than she thinks she's ever seen before. The anger that used to cloud him, the chip on his shoulder, is all but gone, and she likes it. She _really_ likes it. Happiness looks good on him.

Reaching up, she brushes a loose piece of hair off his forehead and scrubs her fingers around his ear and down his neck. "You know I have to move back to Whitmore eventually, right? I have to get back to my old routine, going to school and living life... At least until the next Mystic Falls sized apocalypse comes to town..."

"You can take classes online these days." His hand finds her wrist and he draws her fingers to his lips, kissing the tip of each. "What are you even going to school for?"

She rolls her eyes. "You know I'm studying history and the occult."

"You're a regular Alaric in the making." He turns his gaze upward and sighs, long and loud and completely overdramatic. "I don't know why I keep surrounding myself with so many _nerds_."

"Not Alaric, like _Grams_." She smiles faintly. "I think she'd like that. Plus, it can't hurt to know these kinds of things, considering what we deal with all the time."

"Unless we didn't have to deal with it anymore."

Her brow furrows. "What do you mean...? Mystic Falls is basically a supernatural hot spot. It just keeps calling worse people to it. As soon as we get rid of one, the next one pops up. And since Kai is officially buried, it's only a matter of time before something else shows up."

He hums and drops his gaze. "Unless we're not _in_ Mystic Falls..."

She pauses, her lips parted in surprise. "It's our home," she says, but if she's honest, her voice falls flat. She says it because that's what she's always said. Because this is where her friends are. It's where she's always been. But, that first day, when she came back, all she wanted to do was get away, and she still does. She's less scared of the wider world today than she was yesterday or the day before that. The boarding house does provide some comfort, but she can't live out her life in the safety of its walls. That wouldn't be fair to her or to Damon. He has a life to live as much as her.

"We can make a new home. Somewhere supernatural free. I don't know where that is, but I'm sure there's a list somewhere of the least supernatural places in the world. We can hunker down there, be the only game in town, leave the supernatural ass-kicking to everyone else. Like Donovan, he seems to like that kind of thing. He's turning into a mini-hunter... minus the mark, strength, or aptitude."

Bonnie rolls her eyes. "He's got a pretty good reason to hate the supernatural."

"If he's going to hate something that much, he should get better at _killing_ it." He shrugs. "Anyway, I'm happy to pass the 'town savior' torch his way if it means we can spend less time killing or being killed, and more time like this. Specifically, _naked_."

Biting her lip to hide her amusement, she shakes her head. "You really think you could be happy with a normal life? I give it two months before you miss it."

"Miss _what?_ The constant danger? Coming up with last minute plans to save our friends and family?"

"Even if we left, the others won't. Which means we'd just get dragged back here anyway." She taps his chin. "It's a nice thought, but I'm not sure how realistic it is."

He frowns. "This _bites_. I thought second chances were supposed to be about turning over a new leaf. You know, less blood and gore, more mini-vans and picket fences."

"Did you become a soccer dad in this fantasy of yours?" she jokes.

He looks at her searchingly. "It wouldn't be the worst. A couple mini-me's running around, causing havoc, scaring the neighborhood watch."

She snorts, her lips stretching. "They'd be a handful, definitely."

"What about you?" He shakes his head. "You really don't want out?"

"I..." She swallows tightly. "I want to stop waiting to die, mostly. I don't know if that happens here or somewhere else, but... I'm tired of waiting for my usefulness to just... _run out_."

"Bon..."

Her eyes burn suddenly and she breathes out, wishing she could take it back. Her moment of bleak honesty that has turned the happy mood in another, much sadder direction. "I'm just tired, ignore me."

He reaches for her instead, sliding a hand across her chest and cupping it around her neck, his thumb stroking gently. "From the second I got back to when I saw you standing in front of the cellar, the only thing I wanted to do was find you. I read every book Caroline and Ric had already gone through, three times over. When I got a hold of Kai, I strapped him to that chair and I never let up. It didn't matter how many times he told me you were probably dead. One way or another, Bonnie Bennett, I was bringing you home... And that had nothing to do with ' _usefulness_.'"

Her heart hurts, knocking against her chest a little too hard. "Damon—"

"No, listen to me." He meets her eyes, more serious than he's ever been. "If you wanna live out the rest of your life never lifting a finger to help anyone else, I'll support that. You wanna set fire to this town and never look back, I'll hand you the matches. Or we can go rogue and start traveling around, killing every supernatural asshole we can find. I'll load up the car and play Clyde to your Bonnie, any day of the week. If you wanna retire on a beach somewhere and sip fruity cocktails until you're grey and wrinkled, I'll take the beach chair next to you and spend every day of the next sixty years reminding you that you deserve ever last second of it." He shakes his head slowly. "It's your life, Bon, not anybody else's. You get to call the shots. Be selfless or selfish or somewhere in the middle, and I'll watch your back through all of it."

Her mouth trembles and her eyes sting with tears. "You're just gonna spend the rest of your life watching an old witch's back?"

He grins. "It's a nice view."

She laughs, thick and emotional, and reaches up to wipe away the tears that slip out.

Damon sobers slowly. "Tell me what you want," he says.

And in that moment, Bonnie truly believes he'd give her the world if she asked for it. There are no limits, no exceptions, nothing. He would give her whatever she wanted if only she asked. She wants to say it, that simple three-lettered word that manages to encompass so much. _You_. But, she can't. Because as idealistic and supportive as Damon is in this moment— and she knows that he thinks he means what he's saying— it's all going to change tomorrow. It's all going to fall apart when Elena tells him she remembers all of it. That everything they had is in HD color in her head once more. That they can go back to being what they were. And Bonnie will have to watch as he slips through her fingers, sinking back into the all-consuming love of one Elena Gilbert. How is she supposed to compete with that? A PTSD stricken witch that startles in crowds and dies more than she lives. The sacrificial lamb that walks herself out to meet her end, all in a pointless gesture to honor a Goddess who doesn't need anymore admirers.

So, she doesn't say it. She doesn't say anything at all. Instead, she lifts herself up and she kisses him. Burying her fingers into his hair, she pulls him down to meet her. She hooks an arm around him, fingers digging into his back, and draws his body forward. He slips between her thighs easily enough; it's a familiar place for him by now. He doesn't question it, reaching down to pull her legs up and around his waist as her hands drag down his chest, nails scraping against his skin. The lighthearted honesty of before fades, replaced with the heady need that's kept them going for so long. She keeps her eyes open as he sinks inside her. She doesn't close herself to any second of it. She watches his hands and his mouth and his eyes. She wants to remember all of it. Every word, every touch, every sound. She files it all away and tells herself it'll be enough. It _has_ to be. And when it ends, she tells herself the tears in her eyes are from pleasure and not because she knows this is it. This is just another ending to add to all the rest. She wipes her tears and smiles through it.

Bonnie's always been better at goodbyes, anyway.

.

.

.

Bonnie is already mentally packing her bags. She and Damon shared a bath that morning and he was currently getting breakfast ready, but she can feel a clock counting down. Sitting on the end of the bed, her legs crossed beneath her, she chews on her lip as she texts Caroline.

— _Elena's going to get her memories back_

After it goes through, she waits, her stomach in knots. She's not sure what she expects Caroline to say. Maybe that it's for the best or that she's sorry. It's no secret that Caroline doesn't like Damon. And she's had a front row seat to the up and down relationship between Damon and Elena. Not to mention being a support for Stefan through his own heartbreak. Bonnie wonders if texting him for tips on how to get through it would be too much. Probably. She likes Stefan, but they aren't there yet. Maybe one day, in time. But not now. She's often thought they could be good friends, better than they are anyway, but things never quite got back on track. Maybe if things were different. It took a long time for her to get to a place where she could accept Damon. Where she could see beyond the bravado and the dramatics to the lost man inside. That didn't erase what he'd done, but it provided enough context for her to understand him better.

Her phone buzzes in her hand and Bonnie turns her attention to it, unsurprised that Caroline's personality isn't limited by letters and an abundance of emojis.

— _What? Why? When did this happen? She never said anything yesterday or EVER. She's been anti-memory for months. Bonnie Bennett, what did you say to her!?_

Bonnie sighs. —S _he told me yesterday_

— _I don't understand! She said she didn't need to know. She was happy with Liam. Why'd she change her mind?_ It was quickly followed by a second text, _NVM I'm calling you! You better pick up!_

Bonnie frowns, but answers. "Hey."

"Did she bring it up or did you?" Caroline demands. "Did she say _why?_ Or when she plans on doing it?"

"I brought it up." Bonnie picks at a loose thread on the knee of her jeans. "I just needed to know how long I had."

" _Bonnie_!" Caroline groans. "She didn't care. She could've gone months, even _years_ before she changed it. Or never, you don't know!"

Rolling her eyes, Bonnie shakes her head. "We both know that wouldn't have happened. She'd start to wonder and then, the next thing you know, everything would change."

"So, you thought you'd, what, hurry her up? I don't get it..." Caroline sounds genuinely confused. "I thought you wanted this. Or him. I mean... You love him." She says it softly, and not with the disgust that Bonnie's expecting. For some reason, it makes her heart lurch.

"I do. But, I can't stop the inevitable. I knew we were on a time limit. I always knew this was going to end. And I only brought it up because I know Elena. I knew she'd change her mind. She says she's happy, but you _know_ her, Care. She'll never be happy with a simple life. She'll get bored."

"This isn't _about_ her. This is about _you_ ," Caroline insists. "Whatever Elena wants, whatever she thinks she deserves, that doesn't matter. What do _you_ deserve? What do _you_ want?"

Bonnie bites down on her bottom lip until it hurts. "It's not that simple."

"Well, maybe it _should_ be." Caroline's voice kicks up, stronger now. "You need to fight for this. If this is what you want, if Damon is who you want, then _do_ something about it."

Her brow furrows. "I can't—"

"Why?" she demands. "Why can't you? Why don't you get to win?"

"It's not a competition," she murmurs.

"It _is_ ," Caroline insists. "Look, I've been where you are. And it _sucks_. It feels like no matter what you do or who you like or how much they like you, eventually you won't be enough. And it's not even a matter of Elena; it's just _life_ screwing you over again. Well, screw life for once. It doesn't get to tell you who you love or who loves you. I don't like Damon most of the time, you know that. But, at least I know that when it comes to you I can count on him to come through. I don't know how he feels about you. You'd know a lot better than me. But, Bonnie... You can't spend your life wishing things were different. You have to make that happen. So, if you want to live, if you want to love, if you want to run away from here and never look back, _okay_. Just make sure that whatever you do, it's going to make you happy in the end."

Bonnie stares at the floor a long beat, and then she hears Damon calling her from downstairs, telling her breakfast is ready. Maybe it's a sign, or maybe she just wishes it was. Either way, she takes a deep breath. "Okay. You're right."

"Of course I am." Caroline sounds light and breezy, but clearly proud of herself. "Call me after, okay?"

"After what?" Bonnie snorts. "What do you think's going to happen?"

"Well, either you declare your love for a certain idiot or you steal his car and take off for parts unknown. Either way, I want to be kept in the loop."

Rolling her eyes, Bonnie says, "Uh-huh."

"Just, no explicit details, please. I'm pro-Bonnie, but I'd still light Damon on fire if he looked at me the wrong way."

She laughs. "Thanks."

"Welcome."

With that, Bonnie says goodbye. After hanging up, she makes her way downstairs. It's time to deal with this. No more running or hiding or pretending it isn't happening.

Her foot hits the bottom stair just as the front door opens and Elena steps inside, smiling.

Bonnie's stomach sinks.

.

.

.

The kitchen door swings open and Damon looks up just as he pops a blueberry in his mouth. "You get lost? Breakfast is getting cold." He nods his chin toward the table. "You'll be happy to know I went with waffles instead of pancakes."

Bonnie glances at the table. Her mouth pulls up as she sees the same smiling fang face made atop her waffles. The whipped cream fangs are little more than white puddles, melted from the heat. She doesn't get a chance to linger on it, though, because Elena is following right behind her.

Damon's face twists in confusion when he spots her. "I didn't make enough for three," he says, his voice a little distant and caught off guard.

Bonnie folds her mouth and forces a smile. "Elena has something to tell you."

"Is it that she lost her phone and couldn't call ahead to say she was coming? Because that's the polite thing to do." His brows hike. "I'm not much for manners, personally, but if I have to make more waffles, someone needs to tell me..."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks." Elena rolls her eyes lightly. "I know we haven't talked much in the last few months, so this is probably a surprise for you, me showing up."

"We haven't talked at _all_ and for good reason." He puts his spatula aside and turns off the waffle-maker. "I told you when you said you weren't going to help with Kai that I didn't want you here."

She frowns. "You're mad because I didn't want to help you _torture_ someone?"

"You say that like it's a _bad_ thing, but I had a pretty good reason for torturing him." He drags the towel off his shoulder and wipes his hands clean. "Just because you and Matty Blue-Eyes got a little squeamish over some blood—"

"You removed his fingernails," she interrupts.

"He wasn't going to _need_ them." Damon smirks, but it's all teeth, and his eyes are sharp.

Bonnie suddenly feels like maybe she should intervene, because this isn't what the conversation is supposed to be about and, really, it's only delaying the inevitable. "Guys, Kai is dead. I think we can put it behind us."

Elena glances at her, smiling briefly. "Yes. I agree."

"You would," Damon mutters, before shuffling around the kitchen, grabbing up dishes and bringing them to the sink. "You wanted to talk, so _talk_. My breakfast is getting cold and my patience is running thin."

Bonnie frowns at his back. Is the cold shoulder because he's hurt? He hasn't talked to her much about Elena's memory loss, just mentioned it in passing and moved on to other topics. He's never been one to linger on things, at least not verbally. He's always preferred to pretend something doesn't hurt, put on a strong face, and then drown his misery away until it gets to be too much. She likes to think he's grown beyond the days where he'd take his pain out on other, usually innocent, people. But this, the attitude and the dismissal, it's new, and not something she's used to seeing him throw at Elena. Not since the early days, when he'd get mad that she was with Stefan and not him. Maybe that's it. The knowledge that she's dating Liam now.

Elena crosses her arms, her brow furrowed, and then takes a deep breath. "Look, we've been on the wrong page since you got back. That's my fault. I know you were expecting something different when you got home and I... I _took_ that from you. But, I've been thinking about it and I owe it to you and to me to remember everything."

Damon goes still. "What?"

Letting out a relieved sigh, Elena nods. "Yeah, I talked to Alaric and he says it'll take some work, but we can do it. He can remove the block and get my memories back."

Turning the tap off roughly, Damon turns around, his eyes wide. "Since _when?_ "

"Well, I talked to him about it yesterday..." Elena looks from him to Bonnie and back. "I'm sorry, I'm confused. I thought you'd be happy... All anyone ever tells me is that you were madly in love with me." She shakes her head. "Isn't this what you want?"

"Yesterday?" Damon's eyes cut toward Bonnie, his brow furrowed. "Did you know she was gonna do this?"

Bonnie clenches her teeth.

Before she can answer, Elena does for her. "She's the reason I rethought things."

"She is?" He's still staring at Bonnie and she can feel her stomach hit her toes.

"We started talking about relationships and she wanted to know if I regretted it, erasing you. And the honest answer is that I don't _know_. I can't miss what I don't remember. What I do remember about you isn't exactly flattering. It's hard to imagine a version of me that could fall in love with you. But, Bonnie said that you aren't who I remember. The guy you were when all of this started isn't who you are now. That you're a good person who's grown and changed and maybe I need to see that. Maybe, if I could remember everything, I'd _know_ that." Elena lets her arms fall to her sides. "So, I want to try."

"I've been back for months, and it takes _Bonnie_ telling you I'm worth something for you to change your mind?" Damon stares at her. "You didn't even want to help me get Bonnie back!"

Elena sighs and shakes her head. "I didn't like your _methods_ for getting Bonnie back. I didn't agree with what you did to Kai."

"You didn't even _know_ Kai!"

"He's still a _person_."

Damon's eyes widened. "A psychotic _killer_ who murdered his family and then _stabbed_ and psychologically messed up your _best_ friend. What more did you need to know?"

Elena looks away. "Look, I'm trying to become a doctor. I didn't think that the way you were doing things was helping. And I was _right_. He never helped you."

"Yeah, well, he still deserved everything he got." Damon's mouth screws up in a sneer. "And you'll be happy to know that his death was long coming. And bloody. And if you ever feel like digging him up and giving him some kind of dignified burial, he's scattered in three different places. _Have fun!_ "

Scoffing, Elena turns her gaze upward. "I should've expected you'd somehow make this my fault."

" _Your_ fault? Oh, it's not your fault. The fact that you're standing here telling me you want a redo isn't on you, it's on _you_." He turns to Bonnie accusingly. "You convinced her to get her mind _un_ wiped? What the _hell_ , Bonnie?"

"Hey, don't get mad at her!" Elena defends. "I made up my own mind. I just... needed a little push."

"What _push?_ Nobody asked you to remember," Damon snaps at Elena. "Was I pissed that you thought erasing me was an appropriate reaction? _Yes_. Did I tell you to fix it? _No_."

Elena frowns at him. "I don't understand... Everyone said—"

" _Fuck_ everybody." He threw his hands up. "'Everybody' wasn't in the prison world with me. 'Everybody' didn't spend four months thinking there was no way back. 'Everybody' wasn't forced to leave their best fucking friend behind with a psychotic killer while they got to go home. 'Everybody' doesn't get a say in what I think or what I want or who the hell _I_ love."

Elena stares at him, shocked, her mouth agape. "I..."

Damon turns away, focusing on Bonnie again. "You wanted her to remember?" He shakes his head, hurt and confused. "What, you were trying to get rid of me?"

Pain lances across her chest. " _No_. Of course not."

"Then what, Bonnie? Why would you convince her—?"

"I didn't _convince_ her. I _asked_ if she was going to get her memories back."

"Jesus, you just can't help it, can you?" He throws his hands up and lets out an incredulous laugh. "You couldn't leave well enough alone."

"It wasn't like that." She grimaces and crosses her arms over her chest. "She was telling me about Liam and I just wanted to know how she felt about you, about the memory stuff. I wanted to know how long..."

"How long before _what?_ Huh? Before we got back together?" He stares at her searchingly. "That's what you expected, right?"

She purses her lips, swallowing the words collecting in her mouth, sharp and edged in anger and hurt. "That's not such an _impossible_ idea," she musters.

"It's been seven and a half months since I died. _Half_ of which I spent between _your_ legs, so excuse me if I thought I made it pretty clear that I wasn't waiting to jump back on the Elena train to Crazy Town."

"Wait, _what!?_ " Elena's hands are up as she looks between them, wide-eyed. "You're sleeping together?"

Damon glares in her direction. "Play catch up on your own time, this is personal business."

" _Damon_ ," Bonnie bites.

"What! She doesn't even remember we were together." He rolls his eyes. "This isn't going to hurt her feelings."

"Hold on." Elena shakes her head, her brow furrowed. "Bonnie, _you_ said that Damon and I were together, that I was in _love_ with him... and you _slept_ with him?" Her voice wavers with hurt, her expression coiled in confusion and pain.

"Again," Damon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you don't remember us being together. It's not cheating if I don't exist in your romantic memory!"

Elena turns on him, glaring. "As far as _you_ knew you existed so it definitely matters. My best friend _fucked_ my boyfriend!"

Bonnie flinches. "It wasn't like that."

"What was it like then?" Elena stares at her. "How long were you in the prison world before you stopped pretending you owed me anything and slept with him? How long before my friendship didn't matter to you anymore?"

Her teeth dig into her lip before she forces herself to say, "Six weeks."

"Six _weeks_. Are you serious?" Elena's eyes widen. "I've known you since _pre_ -school and you lasted six weeks before..." She trails off and a laugh catches her. "I can't believe this. I can't believe _you_."

Bonnie crosses her arms over her chest and lifts her chin, defensive. "We were in _hell_. We didn't think we'd get out. We were scared and angry and _lonely_. All we had was each other. I didn't _choose_ to die. I didn't _choose_ to be thrown into a prison world."

"No, you just _chose_ to screw my boyfriend. Someone _you_ thought was the love of my life."

"That's enough," Damon says.

"And _you_!" Elena turns to him. "I can't believe I let what everybody said get to me. I can't believe I thought for one second that you could be anything but a selfish, self-serving _asshole..._ Of everyone you could pick, you slept with _her_."

Damon's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. When he speaks, his voice is steady; though he doesn't raise it, there's a thread of steel throughout. "I let it go that you gave up on me and Bonnie. I forgave you for forgetting me. I didn't force you to help me get her back. In the three months that I was home, I stayed out of your life. I didn't ask you for anything. I let the whole gang know that I had Kai. You made your judgements and you _left_. As far as I'm concerned, you can _stay_ gone."

Elena pulls back, surprised. "What?"

"I don't _love_ you, Elena. Right now, I don't even _like_ you. You can judge me for that all you want. You can hate me for whoever you think I am. You can be disgusted by the lengths I'll go to for the people I care about. But, I'm not going to stand around listening to you tear into Bonnie after she saved your ass more times than I can count. Yes, she fucked up. But considering you don't even remember the person she fucked up _with_ , I hardly think it's any reason to get your panties in a twist. Whatever me and Bonnie are, it has nothing to do with you."

Elena stares at him, her mouth set in a line. "And if I _do_ get my memories back?"

"It's your head. Do whatever the hell you want with it. Just don't do it _here_." His brows hike. "We're done."

She scoffs. "Whatever." To Bonnie, she says, "Keep him. I don't care anymore." With that, she speeds out of the room, leaving a swinging door in her wake.

Bonnie stares at the space Elena used to occupy and chews on the inside of her cheek, overwhelmed.

"Your turn."

She lifts her head and looks at him out of the corner of her eyes.

Damon's waiting, an eyebrow raised. "You wanna tell me what you were thinking?"

For a second, she considers lying or brushing the whole thing off. But, so much has happened in such a short amount of time and she's honestly stunned. Whatever she expected to come of Elena's arrival at the boarding house, this wasn't it. Tears of happiness followed by awkward guilt, maybe. But, not a dismissal by Damon. ' _I don't love you, Elena_.' That's what he'd said. It repeats in her head; once, twice, a third time, before she finally speaks. "I needed to know how long I had before she changed her mind."

"You thought that's what I wanted?"

She sighs, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. "Damon, you've been in love with Elena for _years_. You nearly destroyed your relationship with your own brother for her. A year ago, you would've killed me and everyone in this town if it would keep Elena alive... What you feel for her—"

"Felt," he corrects.

She purses her lips. "Whatever you feel, it runs deep. She was a huge part of your life. For months, you wished you were back here, with her. Why would I expect that to change? Why would I expect you to stop wanting her? She's the love of your life... She's the reason you wanted to be a better man. She's who you fight for and who you die for and who you would risk everyone else for. And I should know, because I've been the one you turned to, the one you demanded help you in whatever life-threatening plan meant saving her. Don't get me wrong, because I volunteered half the time. Elena has been my friend since I was four. Taking on the world for her just made sense. It's who I am, it's what I do. Those are the facts."

"No, those are _some_ facts. Other facts would be that I go to you because you're the only one with half a brain in this town. And yes, you're the only one with the power and ability to actually change anything. It doesn't make it right. Asking you to risk your life for her was a screwed up thing to do, but we both know that I'm selfish and I don't always think about the consequences." He shakes his head. "I did love Elena. I still do, to some extent. She's my friend and, you're right, in a lot of ways she helped me be a better person. Not entirely on purpose. But, she did get me through a lot of things and, if it wasn't for her, I'd still be worshipping at Katherine's fucked up altar. But, what I _felt_ for Elena wasn't much better than what I felt for Katherine. I don't know if that's a doppelganger thing or a _me_ thing. I just know that both of them had a way of twisting my head up so much I didn't always see straight. Look, I know what kind of person I am, Bonnie. It's not always a good one. The problem is I kept falling for people who liked that. This isn't all on Elena. Her wiping her memory stung, yeah, but it was also convenient. If she didn't remember, then I didn't have to go through the whole awkward spiel where I break up with her and then try to convince her that it's totally okay I'm dating her best friend."

Bonnie stares at him.

His mouth curves up faintly. "Look, I screwed this up. Everything that happened over there, it shouldn't have gone that way. I made excuses for being with you. I told you it wasn't cheating like that could just wipe it all away. Like maybe if we let ourselves believe that, we could skip the guilt. And it lasted for a while, but you don't spend four months with someone without getting to know them pretty well. Once that happened, there wasn't any going back for me. Maybe it was having Elena as a buffer or your explicit dislike of me, but it was a lot easier not to care about you before all of this happened. Now that it has, I don't really think there's any going back."

Her heart is pounding so loud, it echoes in her ears, and for a moment, she's not sure she's hearing him right. "You..."

"I gotta spell it out for you?"

She raises an eyebrow.

Damon sighs. "Bon... You're the best person I know. The only reason I survived that four months was because I had you with me. And it wasn't just the spectacular sex, it was talking to you and laughing with you and even those shitty board games that _yes_ , I cheated at."

She's not sure when he crossed the space between them, but suddenly, he's so close, and his hands are cupping her shoulders. Her head tips back as she stares up at him, eyes so blue and intense and serious.

"I wasn't alone because you never _let_ me be. You kept me going," he tells her. "And when I came back here without you, I've never been so lost before in my _life_. How the hell was I supposed to just settle down and move on without you?" He shakes his head. "Even if I could, I didn't _want_ to... So, when you got yourself back, it was like a miracle. As far as I was concerned, that was it. We had a chance to do this right. To be together and live our lives however we wanted..." A muscle ticks in his cheek. "I thought I was telling you that last night, but obviously I didn't make myself clear... I'm in this. You and me. If you want me."

She swallows, the heaviness of the moment swamping her. In all the months that she's struggled with how she felt about him, she's never imagined a moment where he might feel the same. She never let herself truly believe that he could love her, too. Not when Elena existed; the unspoken elephant in the room. A weight lifts from her shoulders. He doesn't want Elena. That simple fact almost seems too unexpected to be real. Bonnie tries to gather her thoughts, but the only thing she can think of is that everything she thought she'd lost, everything she's been preparing herself to walk away from, isn't out of reach anymore. And so, she laughs. Thick and emotional, her eyes bright with happy tears, a choked laugh leaves her, and then another.

"All right, not the reaction I was expecting," Damon mutters, his hands sliding down her arms.

Bonnie shakes her head and catches his hands before he can pull them away and hide in that self-deprecating place he goes to when the world tells him he's not good enough. "I tried to let you go," she says. "I tried not to love you or want more or hope that maybe you might want that, too... I tried to walk away. _Run_ away. I told myself as long as you were happy, I could be okay with it." She twists her mouth up as a tear spills down her cheek. "But, I was _scared_. That I'd never feel this way about anyone again. That I'd never find anyone that held me like you did. You make me feel _strong_ and loved and wanted. And I don't _know_ — I don't know how we got here or how you became such an important person to me, but I don't want to go back. I don't want to lose you." She squeezes his hands. "You're my _best_ friend, and I _love_ you."

He pulls on her hands until they're chest to chest, and then he's cupping her face as he grins down at her. "Was that so hard to say?"

She huffs a laugh and rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

Damon drops his forehead to hers. "For the record... I love you, too."

And then he was kissing her. For the first time since any of this started, there was no shadow of guilt haunting everything they did or said or shared. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she revels in the fact that he is all hers; nothing and no one can change that. He backs her up until she hits the table, and she could laugh at how predictable they are. He picks her up by her hips and drops her down on the edge.

"What about breakfast?" she says, glancing down at the places laid out on either side of her.

He hooks his hand in the collar of her shirt and drags it down until the fabric dips and tears, peeling apart. "Oh, I could eat..."

She laughs as he dives forward, burying his face against her chest. Bonnie puts up a half-hearted defense. "We really shouldn't..." She's thinking more of the food covering the table and the mess they'll make than anything.

But, Damon's not. He looks up at her, his face light and cheerful. "It's not cheating if you're mine."

Shaking her head, she pulls him into a kiss. "You're ridiculous," she says against his mouth.

He just laughs, and presses her back against the table, wiping everything out of the way with a swing of his arm.

They make a mess; shattered plates, soggy waffles, and an overturned syrup bottle litter the floor. But, as beginnings go, she'll take it.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

 **author's note** : _that's a wrap! or it can be... technically, i also wrote an epilogue. from damon's pov, you'll be happy to know. i wanted to explore a little more of their future after they get together, since i felt like there were some loose ends in terms of the whole bonnie's a witch that will inevitably die and technically, elena could get her memories back, so what does that mean for them? hence, an epilogue that ties all these little things up. :)_

 _thank you all so much for your awesome reviews. i'm so touched and encouraged by each one. i know we're all pretty angry and frustrated with the direction the show keeps going in, so fanfiction is a way for us to see what should've been on our screens explored in the way these two deserve. i'm happy to be a part of that, and always happy to share the many and different ways these two could've/should've gotten together._

 _please try to leave a review! i really appreciate any and all feedback!_

 _thanks so much for reading,  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


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